The Price of Honor
by Seph07
Summary: An Emperor to be, a Judge Magister, and the honor which binds them together proves to be the greatest barrier of all. Gabranth x Larsa FINALLY COMPLETE! :
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Price of Honor

Author: Seph

Series: Final Fantasy XII

Disclaimers: Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

Summary: 5 years after the defeat of his brother, Lord Larsa Solidor will finally be crowned as Emperor of Archades—or so he should be. However, the only thing which is preventing him from accepting the crown involves one person... the same person who has sworn to protect Lord Larsa as the rightful heir to the throne of Archades. Gabranth x Larsa

Overall Story Notes: (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

Timeline: Story is generally post-game, but there are many instances of flashbacks concerning the in-game events.

Chapter Notes: Chapter I is set during the first part of the game wherein Vayne Solidor is yet to be announced as the new Consul of Dalmasca.

**Chapter I**

"…but brother! I do not know how to dance—nor do I see the need for me to do so at the feast. It is your welcoming feast as Consul of Dalmasca, not some—ball or other frivolous event!"

The young Larsa Solidor looked up defiantly at his older brother Vayne who stood over him with a formidable two heads taller at the least. "Do not be foolish Larsa, you very well know that it is a required formality for the nobility." Vayne reprimanded his younger brother gently before he turned away and began discussing quietly with Judge Zargabath who had accompanied him to the young Solidor's study.

Larsa stood up from behind the massive wooden desk and pressed his palms hard against its surface. "Brother, I have told you that—"

"Enough Larsa! I have no time to bother with your childish complaints. You will dance at the feast tomorrow night and not shame your brother with this kind of impish behavior." The steel in Vayne's voice managed to quiet Larsa, but not without him reiterating his earlier concern. "I do not know how to dance… even if I am compelled to do so, I cannot."

Vayne let out an exasperated sigh as he again looked at his brother, who was now staring fixedly at an invisible spot on his desk. "Truly Larsa, have you not been taught to dance?" This earned Vayne a nod from the suddenly silent boy who still refused to look at him. "Just for this, I shall have your tutors executed! By the gods, what have they been teaching you if not the Rules of Court at the very least?!"

Even before Larsa could open his mouth to object to the executions, Vayne had started talking again—this time, he called upon the young maid who was dusting the bookshelves behind Larsa's chair. "You there, you are a fine girl—surely you can teach our young Lord Larsa how to perform your Dalmascan court dances."

The woman quickly turned her head down and shook her head meekly. "Forgive me My Lord, but I am not of noble descent… I have no knowledge of the court, only my duties in the palace."

"Not one?! Even a simple waltz would suffice! Teach him woman, you must!"

"F-forg-give m-me my lo-lord… b-but—"

"Enough. It is alright, you may leave the room." Larsa interrupted Vayne before his brother distressed the young girl further. The maid curtsied respectfully to both heirs before she hurriedly left the study.

"Zargabath!" Vayne motioned for the Judge to approach the desk. "Yes my lord?" The deep voice of the Judge sounded even colder through his metal helmet. "Where is Drace? I am sure that one of our own would be cultured enough to teach my young brother a simple court waltz."

"Drace is not here my lord, she has accompanied Judge Ghis to quell a small uprising in Old Archades."

Vayne frowned and was about to speak when a sharp knock on the wooden doors of Larsa's study interrupted him.

"Enter, it is open." Larsa called out to whoever it was who was knocking.

"Ah, it is you… Gabranth…" Vayne acknowledged the Judge as he bowed to both heirs before quickly assuming his position beside Larsa's chair. "I was beginning to wonder where you were…"

Indeed it was an unfamiliar sight to find Larsa alone either in the palace or otherwise—for he is almost never without the company of either Judge Drace or Judge Gabranth.

Larsa nodded quietly at the newly arrived Judge but did not say anything.

"Gabranth, do you dance?" Vayne was growing impatient at the amount of time he had already wasted in trying to remedy Larsa's absurd predicament and his tone was strained.

"Pardon my lord?" Gabranth was taken aback by the question and thought he had heard wrong.

"Do you dance? Court dances… were you taught even a simple waltz?"

There was a short silence before Gabranth replied, "Aye my lord, I have been taught such."

Vayne's face lighted up at once as he clapped his gloved hands together. "Then all is good! Gabranth, I trust you teach Larsa a court dance—a simple one. And mind you, he must do it well."

"Enough brother, enough! I pray that you humiliate me no further!" Larsa all but pushed his older brother out the door in exasperation. "Very well, I will leave you both to practice—and perfect that which must be done. I shall be expecting much from you tomorrow evening Larsa." Vayne called out as he left Larsa's study followed by Zargabath who bowed to the young Lord before he closed the door behind them.

An awkward silence fell over the room as soon as the heavy oaken doors of the study were shut tightly once more. Larsa had taken his seat and was pretending to be busy reading a few manuscripts which littered his desk while Gabranth contented himself by standing as he always did by the young Lord's right side.

Unable to take the pervading silence, the young heir was the first to break it. "How is the Emperor?" Larsa inquired about his father, knowing that Judge Gabranth had returned from a summons by the Emperor.

"He is well my lord." Gabranth's reply was short and curt… as usual, though his voice sounded quite strained—even through the steel of his helmet.

"I see… that is good… thank you Gabranth." The boy heaved a deep sigh as he slouched into his chair—a rare sight for an heir of the House of Solidor. "About what my brother has said, I—I…" and yet again, in the presence of his Judge protector, Larsa found himself unable to continue with what he was saying.

"Does my presence bother you my lord?" The question made the young Lord sit up straight in his chair and look up at the Judge who towered over him more than his brother did. "I have said no such thing—and I will not have you assume such either."

"Forgive me, my words were out of line."

"They are forgotten." Larsa offered a smile—one of many which he will never know if ever it was returned. "As for what my brother has asked of you, I am grateful for your acceptance."

"It is an honor to be of service to you Lord Larsa."

"Then… we shall practice after supper…"

"In the ballroom my lord?"

"What?! Do you intend to humiliate me worse than what my brother has already done?!" Larsa was aware that his sudden outburst was childish, but he could not help it. The very idea that somebody might walk in and see him as he awkwardly tried to learn to dance overnight left the young boy with a very uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach—and to have Gabranth for a mentor did nothing but multiply the feeling a hundred fold.

"I had no such intention my lord."

Larsa sighed once more. "I know."

"Then…"

"My chambers… I shall expect you there… after supper."

"As you will it my lord."

And again, there was silence.

TBC(?)

This idea just **begged** to be written since I'm such a Gabranth x Larsa fan:) I plan to continue it… but reviews and suggestions would be well appreciated. :) No flames please… this is my first Final Fantasy fic and I might cry. TT

A possible 3 to 5 part story if all goes according to plan… but it will most probably change. :P

Seph


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Price of Honor

Author: Seph

Series: Final Fantasy XII

Disclaimers: Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

Summary: 5 years after the defeat of his brother, Lord Larsa Solidor will finally be crowned as Emperor of Archades—or so he should be. However, the only thing which is preventing him from accepting the crown involves one person... the same person who has sworn to protect him, Lord Larsa, as the rightful heir to the throne of Archades. Gabranth x Larsa

Overall Story Notes: (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

Timeline: Story is generally post-game, but there are many instances of flashbacks concerning the in-game events.

Chapter Notes: Chapter II continues from where Chapter I left off… with the exception of a few hours past.

**Chapter I****I**

Gabranth walked through the dim hallways towards Lord Larsa's chambers, the only sounds to be heard were those from his own footsteps and the metallic grating of his armor. To him, this day had been most odd—the summons from the Emperor, Lord Vayne's request, and Lord Larsa's uncharacteristic silence towards him. The young lord had always been jovial towards Gabranth, with the exception of the past few days where he had been more quiet... more—reserved. The Judge's thoughts were interrupted when a familiar sight greeted him along the last corridor which led to his destination.

"Good evening Gabranth." Judge Drace's voice broke through the stillness of the corridor.

"Good evening Drace… how goes the uprising?" Gabranth nodded to the other in acknowledgment.

"It was… subdued early. All is well. I am about to retire, and you?"

A lump formed in Gabranth's throat as he opened his mouth to answer. He could not possibly tell Drace the real reason he was there, Lord Larsa would spite him if he told anybody else.

"Night shift." Gabranth was quick to answer as he stiffly turned towards the opposite direction, away from the doors to Lord Larsa's chambers.

"…and the young lord?"

"He is well." Gabranth then straightened his stance and walked away.

"Gabranth…" Drace caught up to the other and tried to match Gabranth's unusually fast pace. "I may not be in the place to ask this of you… but please, for my sake—and for the empire… please… please watch over Lord Larsa."

Gabranth stopped walking and looked down at his companion. "You need not ask it of me Drace, it is my duty to do so… and yours as well."

"I know… but…" Much to Gabranth's surprise, Judge Drace reached up and removed her helmet, revealing her face—a Judge's face—revealing an identity well hidden and protected behind their heavy metal armor.

"Drace, what are you—"

"Silence Gabranth and listen. I feel my time is short… my sword grows heavy with each day. When the time comes Gabranth, promise me that you will lift your swords and defend Lord Larsa—do that which I fear I cannot."

Gabranth broke into laughter—though it was laughter which was obviously strained. "Drace, you are unlike yourself with this womanly unfound concern. You are strong—you are a Judge Magister, entrusted with Lord Larsa's life by the Emperor himself. If the time comes, I shall lift my swords and defend him alongside you."

Drace smiled—a weak smile. "But if he wills you to lay down your swords… would you?" A sigh. "Goodnight Gabranth." She quickly wore her helmet, once again concealing her humanity. And without another word, she strode off and disappeared into the inky darkness of the hallway ahead.

Gabranth shook his head and frowned before he turned and walked again towards the young lord's chambers. He stopped right outside the dark, oaken doors which loomed over him like sentinels which prevented him from going any further. Gabranth took a moment to consider his situation.

There he was, standing alone—frozen in front of his lord's chambers, bound by oath to go no further for matters of honor and propriety… and bound by oath to enter for matters of honor and obedience. Gabranth was at a loss. He had never even set foot inside anyone else's bed chambers nor did he have any desire to do so… and to be standing outside the bed chambers of Lord Larsa made the act feel more shameless to Gabranth.

Gabranth was too lost in his thoughts that one of the massive doors hit him squarely against the chest as it was pushed open from the inside. The impact of the door simply caused Gabranth to take a step backward, but the sound of wood against his suit of armor was shockingly loud that a few lights began to appear from the far corridors followed by hushed voices.

"By the gods Gabranth! Have you the intention of killing me of fright?!" Lord Larsa's face peered from behind the oaken door and frowned at his Judge protector—though it was done half-heartedly. "And you're late as well… I was just about to find you myself."

Gabranth was quick to recover and bowed hastily to the young heir. "Forgive me my lord, I was… delayed."

"Quickly now come! Enter at once…" A small gloved hand clutched a much larger one and pulled insistently.

"But my lord—" Gabranth tried to stay his hand, but the small hand which held it would not let go.

"Enter at once I tell you!" The distress etched upon the young boy's features as well as the urgency in his voice left Gabranth with little choice. With head bowed low, he let himself be led inside his young lord's bed chambers—if ever his uncharacteristic hesitation was evident upon his face, Gabranth was more than grateful that he had decided to keep his helmet on.

Once inside with the door safely closed behind them, Larsa heaved a deep breath, as if greatly relieved.

"Thank heavens they did not see you there Gabranth, or they would most certainly have pried! So bored are many of these soldiers that they would choose to look into anything and everything—with the exception of things that really do matter."

No sooner had he said this when a sharp knock on the door cut Larsa short.

"What is it? Have you no respect for the hour?!" Larsa called through the door.

"Forgive me my lord, but a loud crash was heard near here… and I was concerned."

"Drace?" Larsa threw Gabranth a slightly accusing look which caused the judge to stiffen all the more.

"I am fine Drace, thank you—you may retire."

"Yes my lord."

Only when the sound of heavy footsteps was no longer audible did Larsa and Gabranth release their breath which, unbeknownst to them both, they had been holding.

"I do pray that there will be no more of that—or we will never be done!"

Gabranth wanted to speak, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do it. The overwhelming feeling that he should not be there, in his lord's room bothered him greatly, but had decided not to speak of it for fear of distressing the boy further.

"Should you not be more… appropriately dressed Gabranth?" The raven-haired boy once again pulled at his protector's hand (which he has not yet released from his gloved grasp) and lead him to the inner room of his chambers.

Now that the young lord has addressed it, Gabranth thought of how unusually heavy his armor felt and how unbearably stifling his helmet had become—all in the span of no more than five minutes in Lord Larsa's presence. But he shook his head decisively and cleared his throat, "How more appropriately dressed should a Judge Magister be in the presence of his lord if not in his armor?"

"Ah, so I see. However, if it is not so much of a task—would the kind Judge Magister remove his helmet so that his lord might see his face?" If Larsa's frustration did show through his voice, Gabranth certainly did not hear it. Hesitant, but determined not to make it evident, Gabranth reached up to remove the steel helmet which concealed his face. As soon as he had done so, Gabranth felt the cool night breeze wash over his face… something he had not felt in a very long time.

He turned to face Lord Larsa, expecting the same raven-haired child with impeccable boyish features and slight frame which made the young lord seem almost effeminate—but somehow, the young lord looked quite different… or was it because the boy seemed to be staring at him intently to the point that Gabranth had to look away, feeling more ashamed than ever for having set foot inside Lord Larsa's inner rooms.

"You look different Gabranth… hmmm… or perhaps you've worn that piece of metal for too long that I've quite forgotten you're real face! Really… if I had my way, I'd not have you wearing it at all!" Larsa took the helmet from the blonde's hands and gave a small cry of surprise as he fell over from the sheer weight of it. Gabranth was quick to kneel and caught the helmet and the young lord in his arms.

"Are you alright my lord?" Gabranth's lips accidentally grazed the shell of Larsa's ear as he asked. A sharp gasp escaped the boy as his head involuntarily leaned towards the knight's lips. "M-my lord?" Gabranth was taken aback by Larsa's reaction and had the strong urge to move his head back—but for some reason, he could not bring himself to do so. The blonde deliberately pulled the young lord closer so much so that when he spoke, his lips swept the whole of the small ear which was pressed against them.

A muffled whimper escaped Larsa's mouth as he arched up slightly in— actions which stirred within the Judge a strong yearning for the onyx-haired boy in his arms. Gabranth's mind was all but screaming that his actions were completely unacceptable as the Solidor heir's protector, but the latter was making it very difficult for him to pull away. Larsa looked even more fragile in Gabranth's arms as compared to how he looked as he stood beside his brother Vayne, who towered over him.

Larsa had turned his head down so that a curtain of his silky black hair made it impossible for Gabranth to see his face and his small gloved hands clutched tightly at the front of his long silk tunic, rumpling the fabric. Gabranth began to worry… thoughts of how much he had violated his lord and master flooded his mind and he felt an overwhelming feeling of guilt and sudden disgust for himself began to creep under his skin. Instinctively, Gabranth bowed his head low—as if to hide himself from the humiliation of what he had done… unconsciously burying his head in the crook of Larsa's neck and shoulder.

"G-Gabranth…"

Larsa whispered with much difficulty as his lips would not cease quivering. His ears and cheeks felt as if they were on fire and each brush of his guardian's lips caused shivers to run up his spine. Larsa had never felt such sensations before, and it confused him—scared him even— but he longed for it... and that was what frightened him the most.

"Forgive me my lord... I take my leave." Gabranth breathed against the sensitive skin at the base of the boy's neck before he pulled back—intent on leaving lest he do more damage than what he believed he had already done. But the fates did not seem to be on Gabranth's side for when he loosened his hold on Larsa, the boy had let out a small cry and clutched at one of his arms mumbling, "stay… do not go… don't… just don't…."

For Larsa, the armor which enveloped the arm he held felt hard and cold—just like the breastplate on which his burning cheek was pressed against… but it was Gabranth beneath it all, and he would not have the knight leave him now—not in this confused, vulnerable state which Gabranth had placed him in in the first place. "Stay Gabranth… you have yet to teach me… remember?"

Larsa held his breath when he felt himself being lifted up as Gabranth stood up.

"Then I shall stay and teach you my lord… if this is what you wish."

Only when Gabranth had said these words did Larsa allow himself to heave a sigh of relief as he broke into a sweet, boyish smile—one which was almost impossible to imagine from how he had looked mere moments ago.

Gabranth could only wish to feel the same, for the allure of the warm body which he held and the tingling in his lips only reminded him of how much self control he had to muster to last through the night—without any more… _distractions_.

TBC(?)

Well… as I expected, this ISN'T going to turn into a 3 to 5 part story… maybe around 6 or 7, but I don't plan to make it longer than that. o.O

A lot of unexpected stuff popped into my head while I was writing this—thus, all this_ tension_ just had to appear!

So uhmm… what do you guys think? I have a little storyline going in my head right now—but reviews and suggestions would be greatly appreciated:) Plus, I'll get to know if my story is still worth continuing or if someone reads it at the least. -.-;;

Seph


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Price of Honor

Author: Seph

Series: Final Fantasy XII

Disclaimers: Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

Summary: 5 years after the defeat of his brother, Lord Larsa Solidor will finally be crowned as Emperor of Archades—or so he should be. However, the only thing which is preventing him from accepting the crown involves one person... the same person who has sworn to protect him, Lord Larsa, as the rightful heir to the throne of Archades. [Gabranth x Larsa

Overall Story Notes: (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

Timeline: Story is generally post-game, but there are many instances of flashbacks concerning the in-game events.

Chapter Notes: Chapter III simply continues from where Chapter II left off.

**Chapter III**

Larsa smoothed out the wrinkles on the front of his tunic and turned to see Gabranth staring absently at his helmet. "I'll not have you wearing that tonight Gabranth." The boy's voice seemed to pull the Judge out of his stupor and the blond turned to present a small smile to the Solidor heir. "Aye, then… shall we begin?"

What Gabranth had thought to be the easy task of teaching Lord Larsa how to dance a simple court waltz turned out to be a much more difficult task than he expected. For one thing, the Solidor heir was so self-conscious and was entirely convinced that Gabranth thought him a fool that Larsa could not bring himself to try at all!

"My lord if you will but follow my example…" Gabranth tried his best to put the young lord at ease, however, it only took about three minutes for each attempt before Larsa would shy away again saying, "You really do think I look foolish in this affair! You do not say so, but your eyes do tell!"

Of course the Judge Magister thought of no such thing and tried to tell Larsa so, but the Solidor heir would not hear any of it. "Is there something I could do that would put you at ease my lord?" Gabranth asked as he rubbed his aching temples.

"If you would not look at me so… then perhaps I could dance better…" came the sheepish reply from Larsa who had taken a seat on the edge of his bed.

"But how can I teach you if I cannot see you my lord?" Gabranth stood beside the bed and looked down at the boy.

Larsa swung his legs absently as he toyed with the hem of Gabranth's cape. "Perhaps if we turned off the lights… then you would not see me as much—and I would not see you as much either… then perhaps I would do better."

And so the lights were turned off and the curtains drawn so that only a patch of moonlight lay pooled on the carpet by the foot of Larsa's bed.

"Now, from where we left off… rest your left hand on the small of your partner's back, and use the other hand to hold your partner's hand like so…" Gabranth demonstrated the form with his imaginary partner and gave a nod of approval as Larsa was able to do the same without retreating to a dark corner of the room. "Very good my lord… now, move your right foot to the side followed by the left—then slightly tiptoe on your left foot. Try counting along to make it easier… there, one two three—one two—uhm, let's take it slower then. Now, ooooone----- twoooooo----- threeee… slower perhaps?"

Larsa started out fine, but the foot work confused him—and the counting only aggravated matters! Ashamed at his failure to follow the steps which Gabranth seemed to perform with such ease, Larsa stopped 'dancing' with his imaginary partner and returned to his spot on his bed. "It is a lost cause Gabranth... a waste of time. You may retire if you wish—there is nothing more to be done here." With that, the young lord kicked of his shoes and rolled over on the covers of his huge four poster bed—with his back turned to the knight who had then stopped 'dancing'.

"My lord—"

"It is no fault of yours Gabranth… go—rest! I will be fine."

As much as it pained Gabranth to leave Larsa as he was then, he had little choice—it was an order, one he was bound to obey. "Then, I shall take my leave. Good night my lord… may you sleep well." Gabranth picked up his helmet from the table where he had left it earlier and walked towards the outer room—but a soft sound stopped him in his tracks. Slowly he walked back to Larsa's bedside and listened as a series of muffled sobs escaped the silken pillow the boy had covered his face with.

After much consideration, Gabranth decided against his better judgment and put down his helmet on the bedside table. The metallic sound caused Larsa's sobs to cease—or at least he had wanted to stop his sobbing, but could not. "Go! Why won't you let me be… Can you not see I am humiliated enough as is?! And now you insist upon watching me as I weep here like a child…" Gabranth could barely understand Larsa's muffled words through the pillow that he had to lean closer to actually make out at least some of the words.

When the Judge had heard enough self-depreciating comments from the boy, he grabbed hold of the pillow and tried to pull it away from Larsa while scolding him at the same time, "That is quite enough wallowing in self-pity my lord…" Larsa tightened his arms around the pillow and sobbed through it, "You've no idea what it feels like… to be made a fool of…"

"No one is making a fool of you my lord… there is no one here but you and myself—and I make no fool of you." Gabranth took a seat beside Larsa who had curled up into a fetal position, with the pillow still pressed against his face—a few sobs still escaped him. "Do you wish to try again?"

The young lord shook his head vigorously, intent on simply giving up the whole affair—his brother could do well enough without him tomorrow evening. "No, I do not wish so…"

Gabranth sighed… no matter how mature and well-learned Lord Larsa was for his years—he was still just a child. _Just a child_. "Would it make any difference my lord… If _I_ asked you to dance?" Again, the Solidor heir shook his head almost violently. "No no no… how many times would you make me repeat myself Gabranth?!"

With a slightly amused grin, Gabranth leaned closer to the curled figure and whispered, "You misunderstand me young master, I am not asking if you would like to try again—I am asking if you would dance _with me_… as _my partner_."

**Author's Note: I was supposed to cut the chapter here, but decided to just continue it—thus taking it longer for me to finish the whole. I hope you guys like it anyway. Hee. :P**

As the knight expected, Larsa's sobs ceased and his small frame stiffened noticeably. Gabranth took this chance to remove the offending pillow from the young lord's grasp. Larsa allowed the Judge to cast the pillow away, but instinctively turned away to hide his tear-stained face. "If I agree… would you spare me from continuing that horrid affair of pretend-dancing?"

"Certainly my lord."

Satisfied, Larsa rolled over to face his Judge protector— and even though it was dark inside, Gabranth did not fail to notice the swollen eyes and slightly flushed cheeks which the young lord had tried to hide. Larsa cocked his head to one side as he regarded the Judge. Was it him… or was Gabranth—staring? "What is it Gabranth? Why do you stare at me so?"

Gabranth realized too late that he had been staring and found himself looking straight into cobalt eyes—wide and curious. Caught off-guard, the blonde opened his mouth to speak but no words came to him which flustered Gabranth even more. Undeniably embarrassed, the Judge could only look away from the guileless eyes which threatened to strip him of all self-control if the night did not end any sooner.

"Does my presence bother you Gabranth?" Larsa teased by throwing the same question Gabranth had asked him earlier that day. The young lord all but draped himself unto Gabranth's armor as he tried desperately to take a look at his protector's face. It was such a rare occurrence for Gabranth to remove his helmet—and even rarer, for him to actually lose his composure as he did then.

Gabranth took a deep breath and stood up from Larsa's bed, determined to finish the task at hand. "No my lord—it is always an honor for me to be in your presence." The onyx-haired boy frowned—Gabranth had regained his stiff demeanor and was back to his usual self. Larsa could only nod mutely, unable to mask his dismay.

His frown was quickly replaced by a gasp of surprise as a large gloved hand took possession of one of his own and an arm wound itself snugly around his small waist. "Gabranth—this is—uhm… this is quite—" Larsa tried hard to come up with a retort at being held the way he was (which in his mind he _knew_ was absolutely improper) but he let it die in his mouth as soon as the older man lifted him off the bed and lowered unto the carpeted floor.

Gabranth was much too tall to hold the young lord as he would an adult dance partner, so he removed his arm from Larsa's waist and simply let it rest lightly on the boy's back while he continued to hold on to the small hand which was nestled in his much larger one. The blond took a deep breath before looking down at the young lord who felt as if he was frozen stiff in the Judge magister's arms.

"My lord… are you alright?"

Larsa nodded sheepishly—purposefully keeping his head bowed to avoid eye contact with the older man. The young lord felt a strange tingling feeling growing from where Gabranth rested his hand on his back—that and the brush of cool metal of the knight's breastplate against his uncharacteristically hot cheek made Larsa shiver slightly.

"Very well then… let us begin." Without another word, Gabranth began to dance the slow, sweeping steps of a waltz—carefully coaxing the young lord to follow by squeezing the small hand gently. The knight was pleasantly surprised as Larsa followed his lead almost perfectly. "You are doing very well my lord." Though Larsa did not reply to the compliment, Gabranth could not help but smile at the sight of the boy's cheeks flushing crimson.

For a moment, nothing could be heard in the room except for the light foot falls of Gabranth and Larsa as they continued their silent waltz—Gabranth leading, Larsa following. The young lord was barely aware that they were actually dancing—all he could think about was his Judge Protector's hands on his back, on his hand, around his waist… Larsa shook his head—embarrassed at the thoughts he had begun to harbor. If that wasn't dreadful enough, just when he dared to take a quick upward glance at Gabranth—Larsa found the knight looking right back at him… something which made him turn to an even deeper shade of crimson if that was even possible at that point!

"You—I… I---You… y-y-you dance quite well Gabranth." Larsa looked away and pretended to be more concerned with his dancing rather than the matter at hand… the _other_ matters at hand.

"Aa… the same can be said for you my lord." The knight unconsciously ran his hand up the boy's back.

"Y-yes—I mean no! N-no!" Larsa nearly whimpered as a gloved hand rested on his pale nape—making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"No…?" Gabranth mused, fingers tracing tiny circles on milky skin. A small smile formed on the judge's lips as he felt the small hand tighten its hold on his own.

"N-no." Larsa bit his lower lip to stop it from quivering. "It is you who is dancing Gabranth… I am merely following your lead. If only it could be just like this tomorrow evening…" The young lord sighed audibly as he leant his head against the judge's armor.

"You will do wonderfully tomorrow my lord I assure you." And with much reluctance, Gabranth pulled his hand away from where it rested to make a sweeping bow to his young partner to signify the end of the waltz.

Larsa bowed awkwardly—unsure if he should bow or curtsy since he had portrayed the 'woman' during the waltz. "If you were there Gabranth—then maybe I'd not make too big a fool of myself at the banquet." The young lord felt embarrassed at his childish request but he asked it nonetheless… he wanted—no, _needed_ Gabranth to be there otherwise, he feared that he would absolutely flounder and humiliate himself and his brother as well!

The judge magister laughed softly at the Solidor heir's request, not because it was childish but because Larsa did not have to ask it of him. Gabranth was Larsa's judge protector—whether the boy asked him of him or not, he would be there to ensure the young lord's safety.

"You think me foolish again, don't you Gabranth?" Larsa turned to the blonde indignantly—though he did it half-heartedly. Larsa knew that the knight would never think that of him… or if ever he did, Gabranth certainly would not admit it.

"Not at all my lord… I found you quite—_endearing_ during tonight's affair." The judge mentally reprimanded himself for letting such a thought slip. Endearing?! Only a knight denied of all sense and honor would dare call his lord _endearing_! Gabranth was just about to take back what he said but Larsa was quick to reply. "Endearing? I did not expect such a… such a word from you Gabranth… but I am flattered—and glad that you thought me to be so… if only for tonight." The last words of his sentence was almost inaudible, but Gabranth heard it… he even caught the small sigh which came after.

The knight squeezed the small hand again before he finally let it go. "It is late. It is best that you prepare for bed now my lord." The young boy merely nodded as he accompanied Gabranth to the outer room of his chambers. An awkward silence fell over them as the blonde stood by the heavy oaken doors which lead to the corridors, standing stiff with his helmet under his arm.

"Thank you Gabranth… for teaching me how to dance." Larsa tried his best to smile but for some reason he could not bring himself to do it.

"It has been a great pleasure my lord." The judge gave a low bow before he turned one of the golden knobs and pushed open one of the massive doors.

Gabranth had not walked two steps when Larsa caught hold of his cape and pulled at it insistently.

"W-wait!"

Surprised as he was, the judge was able to keep a straight face as he turned to the young lord. "Yes my lord?"

"Gabranth… if you would—I mean… if you like—wish… if you wish to come again to my chambers—I would be glad to have you." Larsa bowed his head—silently wishing that his judge protector would fail notice the healthy pink color of his cheeks.

For a moment, Gabranth was stunned at what he had just heard. To simply step into the young lord's chambers already made the knight feel like he was gravely out of line—to see Lord Larsa on his bed made the blonde's blood boil to the point of obscenity and utmost dishonor! Surely, to want to do it again would be undeniably irreverent! Again Gabranth was at a loss… he silently wished to curse the fates for toying with him like this—but at the same time he wished to thank them as well.

The blonde looked at the helmet he held and sighed. A Judge Magister… that was what he was… that was the _only_ thing he will ever be to the young lord.

"Gabranth?" In the silence of the night, Larsa's voice sounded faint. The young lord suddenly felt absolutely foolish for having asked such a thing from a knight of his—a soldier—a judge magister. "Forgive me… it was a fooli—"

"I would be honored if you would have me visit again my lord." Gabranth interrupted before Larsa could take back his invitation—something which put a smile upon the young lord's lips.

"And I certainly would Gabranth."

Gabranth bowed at the Solidor heir once more. "Good night then young master… and about your request earlier—I would be glad to accompany you to the banquet my lord."

Larsa smiled broadly at this and all but chimed at the knight, "I thank you dearly for my part and for my brother's as well! Good night Gabranth—may you sleep peacefully this night."

The judge nodded and turned to walk into the inky darkness of the corridor. Gabranth could only shake his head in despair. He highly doubted that he would sleep peacefully that night… or the night after—not after what happened in the young lord's chambers; that ensured the loss of at least a week's respite. The blonde took a deep breath to clear his head.

This night had _not_ been a lesson on dancing.

This night had been a lesson on _self control_—

And by the gods… Gabranth was _absolutely exhausted_.

TBC(?)

First and foremost, I want to thank those who reviewed!! You guys absolutely saved my story:) I really, really appreciate the nice feedback and it absolutely inspired me to continue it!

I also want to apologize profusely for being so late in putting up this chapter. School just begun mid-June and it quickly ate up my time! However, I was still able to make this chapter! Yay:)

It's kind of long since I made the first part of the chapter before classes begun and only finished the rest recently! Well… I guess you guys don't need me to say that I'm officially continuing this story (for now)!

It's not going to turn into a 5-7 part story… I just know it! Haha. :P So much for foresight. Anyway, to all my first reviewers I dedicate this chapter to all of you:) -Hugs!!- Please enjoy The Price of Honor chapter III. :)

Seph


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Price of Honor

Author: Seph

Series: Final Fantasy XII

Disclaimers: Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

Summary: 5 years after the defeat of his brother, Lord Larsa Solidor will finally be crowned as Emperor of Archades—or so he should be. However, the only thing which is preventing him from accepting the crown involves one person... the same person who has sworn to protect him, Lord Larsa, as the rightful heir to the throne of Archades. [Gabranth x Larsa

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Overall Story Notes: (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

Timeline: Story is generally post-game, but there are many instances of flashbacks concerning the in-game events.

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Chapter Notes: Chapter IV takes place during the banquet in honor of Vayne's new position as new Consul of Dalmasca.

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**-----------------------------------------**

**Chapter IV**

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"I see you are looking quite splendid this evening Larsa… I do believe that the women present find you more charming than I!" Vayne Solidor mused lightheartedly as he laid a hand on his younger brother's slight shoulder. Larsa looked up at Vayne with a pout in such an uncharacteristically childish manner that the latter could not help but laugh affably at the other.

"Do you think me comical in these garments brother?" The smaller boy frowned as he shifted uncomfortably in the many layers of his royal robes. "I told Drace that I truly detested wearing these—but she would not listen!" Vayne smiled with a rare expression of tenderness towards Larsa. "As I have said earlier, you look splendid this evening Larsa. I am quite certain we will find you a suitable betrothed this evening!"

Larsa's head snapped in Vayne's direction rather quickly that it actually hurt. "Betrothed?! Brother we have not discussed such a thing!"

"Tut-tut. There you go again, carrying on with your impish behavior!" Vayne shook his head in feigned dismay, though he failed to hide the smile of amusement which had formed on his lips. Before Larsa had the chance to reply, Judge Zargabath quickly bowed to both heirs and whispered something to Vayne—interrupting their conversation.

"Aah… it seems that I have to attend to our guests this evening. It is a tiring task—but one which the nobility must learn to accomplish." Vayne sighed as he waved the Judge off. "Speaking of tasks—I trust that Gabranth has done that which I have asked of him?"

At this sudden change of topic, Larsa (who had been quite ready with a series of objections to the mere idea of a betrothal) found himself unable to stop the blush which quickly rose to his cheeks. The younger heir turned his head away from Vayne's direction and simply nodded, afraid that if he opted to speak, his voice would give away his apparent awkwardness.

"I trust that he did his task well—and I believe that _you_ will do yours _perfectly_." Vayne gently squeezed Larsa's shoulder encouragingly. "_Women,_ dear brother—are one of the most difficult… _creatures_ one will have to learn to deal with. A lesson you will begin to learn tonight!"

"I will not stand for this brother! I have learnt to dance as you have asked and now you ask me to mingle with women!" Larsa did his best to suppress his voice even though he was implausibly exasperated.

"Truly Larsa, I cannot understand your intense dislike towards this whole affair!"

"The dancing is shameful enough—then you speak of women and betrothal! Have I not the right to be upset by all this?"

"Are you not a member of the nobility? Are you not an heir of Solidor? Are you not the son of the Emperor of Archades?" The tone of the older boy's voice hardened considerably.

Larsa suddenly felt ashamed at his childish outburst. "I-I am brother… however, should you not be the one to mingle with the women? After all… you _are_ older and you _will_ certainly marry before me."

At this, Vayne laughed quietly—dispelling his earlier seriousness. "Fortunately for me—and most unfortunately for you, I have the duty to talk of politics and goodwill to the officials present—which leaves you to entertain their lovely wives and daughters."

Larsa shook his head in despair. "I have no interest in amusing old ladies and their daughters…"

"For what reason then did you bother to learn to dance?" Vayne raised a graceful eyebrow at his brother. "If not with these _old ladies _and their daughters, pray tell dear brother, who are you to dance with? With _men_? With_ Judges_?"

Larsa frowned—his mind unable to come up with any retort, though he stood his ground indignantly. A tense silence formed between the two brothers—a silence which was soon broken by the arrival of Judge Drace.

"Forgive my interruption Lord Vayne, Lord Larsa… however, the guests have asked for your presence at the table Lord Vayne" Drace bowed to both heirs before she stepped behind Lord Larsa to make way to the latter. "Thank you Drace. I'm afraid I must excuse myself, I have guests to entertain." Vayne nodded nonchalantly at the Judge before he walked off to the banquet table where quite a number of nobles and visitors had already seated themselves.

Larsa unconsciously heaved a deep sigh of relief once his brother had disappeared amongst the guests.

"You seem quite distressed my lord—is there anything the matter?" Even through the metal of her helmet, Drace's voice still held a note of gentleness which was reserved for the young lord alone.

"Oh… no, no—I'm quite alright Drace. Thank you." Larsa offered a small smile though it was perceptibly tense. "I'm just hungry perhaps." Of course Drace did not believe Larsa, but opted not to pry lest the young lord became more troubled.

"Aa, then if my lord would kindly follow me—I shall accompany you to your table." With a slight bow, Drace led Lord Larsa to a table apart from where Vayne and the other nobles were. Once seated, Larsa knitted his brows as he looked at the people seated with him on this particular table. Not only were there too few men and too many women—there were also an abundance of children… something which displeased the young lord greatly.

"Drace… I do think there has been some mistake. Should I not take my place at the right hand of my brother along with the other nobility—and not with these… _children_ and their mothers?" Larsa hissed quietly to Drace who was standing behind his chair. "Forgive me my lord, but your lord brother Vayne has explicitly instructed me to have you sit here… in this table." The Judge replied in a hushed voice as she bowed apologetically to the young heir.

Undoubtedly harassed, Larsa had half a mind to walk over to his brother to contest the whole affair—however, Vayne's earlier words kept the younger heir's temper at bay. With a resigned sigh, the onyx-haired boy settled in his chair and instead, attempted to engage the guests in his table in conversation while he dined.

That affair however, did not work out either—much to Larsa's dismay. The elderly ladies did not seem the least bit interested in what he was saying but contented themselves in showering him with artificial praises that were quite uncalled for and only succeeded in either embarrassing or annoying the young lord. "Drace, this whole affair is turning out most dreadfully for me… I am compelled to sit here and listen to old ladies prattle on about things which do not interest me in the slightest!" Larsa sank in his chair dejectedly with another rueful sigh. "Would you think less of me if I left inconspicuously and not participate in this banquet any further?"

The Judge lowered her head to whisper into the Solidor heir's ear, "I would think no less of you even if you left openly my lord—however, these young ladies and their mothers might think otherwise."

"What ladies? These ladies?" Larsa frowned as he made a slight gesture to point out the women seated at his table.

"No my lord… I'm afraid I was speaking of _these_ ladies." Drace produced a scroll on which was written a list of no less than ten names.

"By the gods Drace—what is this?!" Cobalt eyes went wide as the young lord took a closer look at the scroll.

"A list of all the ladies the young lord will have to dance with this evening."

"What?!" Larsa's cheeks burned crimson either from embarrassment, anger, or both. "Where did you get this cursed thing?!"

Drace laid an armored hand gently on the young lord's shoulder to remind him that he was still in the presence of fellow nobility. "Your lord brother Vayne has asked it of me my lord." Though Larsa was able to lower his voice to a whisper, Drace could clearly decipher the tone of resentment in the younger heir's voice. "I see… but you are my Judge Protector Drace—and it is against my will to be subjected to this! Will you comply with this order… will you watch me suffer this shame?!"

The Judge shook her head disapprovingly at the young lord's behavior. "I am bound by oath to protect you Lord Larsa. However, there is but one duty which stands above that… and that is my duty to protect the State; thus, I am bound by this same oath to ensure that the House of Solidor has heirs that will inherit the throne."

"This is preposterous Drace! Do you not think this absurd?! Father is still Emperor of Archades and my brother and I are still heirs ourselves! Surely there is no need to hurry with such matters at this moment." The young lord hissed at his Judge Protector, obviously upset by the whole event. But before the soldier could reply, another familiar Judge Magister walked over and bowed to the young lord. "Good evening my lord, forgive my lateness—I was delayed."

Larsa suddenly felt a lump form in his throat as an unfamiliar feeling began to churn in his stomach. "It is alright… Drace and I were simply discussing—_trivial_ matters…"

"My lord I assure you these matters are nothing trivial!" Drace started up at once but Gabranth stopped her by laying a hand firmly on her armored shoulder.

"Oh Drace why do you vex me so?! Now I have lost my appetite completely!" Larsa was overcome by an impulsive shift into a childish mood that he had already walked out into the palace garden before he could stop himself.

The ladies at the young lord's table could not help but voice out their concern at Larsa's sudden departure, but Drace was quick to remedy the situation. She bowed courteously as she excused the Solidor heir. "Forgive the young lord's hasty departure—he has not been feeling well and he wished to have some fresh air. I am certain he will return promptly." She was greeted by silent murmurs of agreement and Larsa's outburst was quickly forgotten by the guests.

"I did not know that such a thing aggravated the young lord as much as it did… but it is important nonetheless if Lord Vayne had asked it. I must talk to Lord Larsa at once!" Drace was about to go in search for the young lord but Gabranth stopped her again.

"It is best that I go and speak to the young lord in your stead Drace… as we have seen he is most upset about what _you_ have said." The Judge spoke calmly in his baritone voice which seemed to put the other knight at ease.

With a resigned sigh, Drace nodded. "You are right Gabranth… the young lord will certainly listen to _you_." Drace handed the scroll to the blonde as she proceeded to walk towards the other Judges. "Be firm—you spoil the young lord greatly."

Gabranth broke into a small grin behind his metal helmet. "Aa… and I had always thought that that was _your_ duty Drace and not mine."

If ever Drace heard him, Gabranth did not know—but it did not matter. With a respectful bow to the nobles at the table, the Judge quickly sought Larsa in the palace garden.

It did not take long for Gabranth to find the Solidor heir who had been brooding on a bench in a rather solitary corner of the garden—partially hidden by some tall hedges. Larsa on the other hand had no inkling that his Judge Protector was right behind him as he ruminated over everything that upset him that night. First there was his brother Vayne—the older heir's words struck him though he did not know exactly why.

_With men? With Judges?_

The young lord's frown deepened even more. What could his brother have been thinking?!

"May I take a seat beside you my lord?"

Larsa was quite lost in his thoughts that he nearly leapt off the bench when Gabranth's voice broke though the silence which surrounded him. Though he did his best to look displeased, Larsa only succeeded in looking flustered with his blue eyes wide and unsure, and an unmistakable blush threatening to rise in his cheeks. Embarrassed enough and unable to trust his voice, the young lord merely nodded as he purposely bent his head slightly to avoid looking at the knight face to face.

The blonde made a slight bow before sitting beside Lord Larsa—mindful to keep an unassuming distance. The Judge Magister mused at how vulnerable the young lord looked as he put on a rather childish pout—something which Larsa rarely did. However, Gabranth immediately stopped himself from continuing that train of thought, ashamed for indulging in the Solidor heir's presence.

"What troubles you so greatly my lord that you have opted to leave the company of your lovely guests?"

"Have you the slightest idea what Drace—what my brother has imposed upon me Gabranth?!" Larsa started, his voice slightly quivering with emotion as he looked up at the Judge.

"If it concerns this scroll… then perhaps I do know what Lord Vayne has asked of you my lord." Gabranth presented the scroll Drace had handed to him.

"Forgive me my lord, I did not think that—"

"Exactly! You did not _think_! Did all of you assume that I would consent to this?!" Larsa interrupted Gabranth more brusquely than he had intended that he actually felt himself flinch slightly at his own words.

The Judge felt the sting of the young lord's words but steeled himself to accomplish the task at hand. "Forgive me, but this task has been entrusted to us and I have every intention to accomplish it my lord." Gabranth's voice was cold and unyielding as he said this—and more so through the metal helmet which he wore.

Larsa looked at his Judge Protector, silently imploring the blonde with his eyes. "Then you approve of it… this whole affair?"

"Yes I do my lord."

"Why?! Because you are bound by oath to protect the Empire? To ensure that the Empire has enough heirs to run it? " The young lord scoffed indignantly at the Judge Magister as he bowed his head to hide his eyes which now felt as if they were brimmed with unshed tears.

"No… I approve of it because I think it a great waste if no one is to marvel at our young lord… especially tonight when he has gone through all the trouble of looking more charming than usual." Gabranth surprised himself by speaking so daringly to the Solidor heir but found himself unable to look away. Drace had certainly outdone herself this time; Lord Larsa looked absolutely _enthralling_ in his royal robes.

"Flattery will get you nowhere this evening Gabranth…" Larsa tried to sound jovial but there was an unmistakable quiver in his voice which the Judge did not fail to hear. The blonde tilted his head to one side so that he might see the onyx-haired boy's face, but he couldn't for Larsa had bowed his head quite low and refused to look up at him. With a sudden surge of boldness, Gabranth lifted a gloved hand and reached out to cup the young lord's chin—something which startled the latter greatly.

Larsa opened his mouth to protest as he felt a gentle but firm hand nudge his chin upward, but no words came out of him. He did not fight against it though he purposely avoided the Judge's gaze. Even through the leather of his glove, Gabranth could feel the warmth from the young lord's pink cheek as he brushed his thumb slowly over it… and he could not help but smile. No matter how perplexed he was, Lord Larsa had always been so—_yielding_… so _open_ to him, sometimes to the point that Gabranth had to restrain himself lest he do something he would surely regret.

_What you do to me…_

"I have spoken nothing but the truth my lord… the truth and no less. Will you not grace the lovely ladies with your presence?"

Larsa unconsciously pressed his cheek against the gloved hand which held his face as he sighed softly. "I want to Gabranth… I want to please my brother and the court. To dance with one or two ladies would have been alright, but to dance with so many—I do not think I can do such a thing. I would surely flounder… I know I shall. And my brother spoke of betrothal—it bothers me greatly Gabranth!"

The Judge coaxed the slighter boy to move closer to him as he whispered, "Tonight think of nothing else but last night… just dancing—think of nothing more. Think not of how many ladies you must dance with; think not of those who will be watching, think not of what your lord brother has asked of you. There is only you my lord… _only you_."

Larsa felt his toes curl in his shoes and his stomach tighten into knots as he looked up at his Judge Protector who looked back at him with such intensity that he turned a deep shade of scarlet all at once.

Gabranth reluctantly let his hand slip away from the young lord's face and offered it again as he stood up from the bench. "Now, shall we go inside? It is impolite to keep your guests waiting my lord."

The Solidor heir took Gabranth's much larger hand in his own as he smiled up at his Judge Protector. "You do have a way of tricking me into these things don't you Gabranth? I shall have your head if I flounder!"

"Aa, and I shall offer it freely if you do less than perfectly my lord."

The two shared a short moment of quiet laughter between them before they reached the doors which led back into the palace. Gabranth squeezed the small hand in his own before he let it go as he pushed open one of the massive doors and bowed respectfully. The sound of lively conversation over the quartet's music quick flooded the young lord's ears and Larsa wished greatly that he was back in the solace of the garden.

Larsa took a deep breath and with a fleeting touch on Gabranth's armored arm, he stepped inside the palace—more determined to do what must be done.

**TBC**

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Another big **THANK YOU** to all those who reviewed and especially to those who have been following my story. :) Reviews make a happy writer:D

Anyway, this chapter focuses on the more serious side of palace affairs for both Larsa and Gabranth. They both have their duties to the Empire—and they are bound by blood and oath to those duties. Oh—but they find ways don't they:P Hee! More conversation this time… and breeding tension!

Rest assured—something is _definitely_ going to happen in the next chapter! (This chapter actually took a lot longer than expected because I was already thinking of what was going to happen in the next chapter so I had to make this chapter a fitting introduction for that. Ok, ok… I'll stop here before I give myself away. :P) All I can say for the next chapter is… poor, poor Gabranth.

I hope you guys continue reading my story! Comment and suggestions are still very welcome:)

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**Seph**


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Price of Honor

Author: Seph

Series: Final Fantasy XII

Disclaimers: Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

Summary: 5 years after the defeat of his brother, Lord Larsa Solidor will finally be crowned as Emperor of Archades—or so he should be. However, the only thing which is preventing him from accepting the crown involves one person... the same person who has sworn to protect him, Lord Larsa, as the rightful heir to the throne of Archades. [Gabranth x Larsa

**-----------------------------------------**

Overall Story Notes: (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

Timeline: Story is generally post-game, but there are many instances of flashbacks concerning the in-game events.

**-----------------------------------------**

Chapter Notes: Chapter V simply picks up from the end of Chapter IV.

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**-----------------------------------------**

**Chapter V**

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All the determination seemed to drain out of Larsa's body as he stepped inside the brightly lit hall—the loud medley of voices and the eyes which now fixed themselves upon him only unnerved the young lord even more. "Tell me again Gabranth, how many ladies I must dance with this evening." The Solidor heir whispered to the Judge Magister behind him.

"About 11 my lord… 15 at most." The knight replied, trying to keep his voice as nearly inaudible as possible.

"Then it shall be a very long and tiring evening…" Larsa trailed off with a sigh as he proceeded to walk towards his brother who had been gesturing to him from across the room.

"There you are Larsa, I was beginning to worry that you've run from me!" Vayne chuckled amusedly as he draped an arm around his younger brother's narrow shoulders. Though Larsa smiled, he secretly wished to do just that. With a nonchalant nod, the older Solidor acknowledged Gabranth's presence as the Judge bowed respectfully. "You've returned quite quickly Gabranth—efficient as ever aren't you? I'm quite impressed." Vayne's lips curved into a rather iniquitous smile.

For a moment, the Judge was unable to answer. There was something menacing about the older Solidor's tone which made Gabranth's blood run cold. "Thank you for your compliment my lord." The blonde bit out, rather thankful that his helmet concealed his furrowed brows and the derision painted on his usually stoic features.

"Well then, I trust that you will make me proud this evening Larsa. Ah, here comes Lady Elvera now." Vayne whispered in his brother's ear before he straightened up and greeted the girl with a light kiss on the back of her gloved hand—an action which made her flush slightly. Larsa offered a cordial smile as he regarded the young Lady Elvera who seemed more an overworked tapestry than anything else.

Vayne gently pushed his brother forward, his hand firmly gripping the slight shoulder. "You look lovely this evening Lady Elvera. I trust you remember my younger brother Larsa?" The young lord forced a look of recognition though he was completely at a loss if he had seen this lady or not. Lady Elvera let out such a girlish giggle that Larsa nearly winced. "Of course Lord Vayne—I cannot easily forget such a handsome face." The younger Solidor nearly rolled his eyes had he not stopped himself.

Larsa at once offered a hand to Lady Elvera as he bowed slightly. Vayne raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise—he had not expected that his younger brother would be so immediate in his actions. The Lady seemed pleasantly surprised as well but accepted the dance with a curtsy. Gabranth bowed quickly and retreated to a corner of the great hall where he stood almost motionless though his eyes never left the lithe frame of the younger Solidor.

The blonde watched as Larsa lead Elvera with seeming ease that none could have guessed he had only learnt to dance the night before. He mused at how the young lord could draw so much attention without the slightest intention of doing so… and how Larsa had remained completely oblivious of the apparent affections that were showered upon him. The Judge watched as Larsa concluded his dance with Lady Elvera and began again with another. He noted the polite exchange of smiles and pleasantries—noticing how much at ease the ladies were in the Solidor heir's presence. Gabranth unconsciously sighed as he leant his head back against the wall—his armor seeming much heavier than usual.

"Gabranth… the Emperor wishes to speak with you." Bergan's deep baritone broke through the blonde's thoughts almost brusquely. With a nod, Gabranth headed towards the exit—not failing to see the frightened and uneasy glances thrown in his direction as nobles and servants alike hurried to clear his path. As a Judge Magister, should fear not be taken as a sign of respect for his position? Gabranth did not bother to mull over it any longer as he left the hall.

- - - - - - - - - -

Larsa was slowly getting tired of dancing round and round the ballroom. The different ladies he danced with were all a blur of silk and satin in various colors with shrill voices and painted faces—the young lord was amiable, though somewhat indifferent towards them. If it were not for the memory of the night before, Larsa was quite certain he would not have been able to dance with so many ladies in a single night.

A small smile tugged at the young lord's lips as he remembered Gabranth's strong arm around his waist—how the soldier had pulled him close… how the large palm enveloped his own… what he felt then, Larsa could not explain—but a shiver ran up his spine in response to his thoughts, making his cheeks redden slightly.

"M-my lord…" A voice beseeched the Solidor heir.

As if he had just woken from a trance, Larsa raised his head slightly to meet the gaze of the young lady who had addressed him. "Yes? Is there anything the matter?"

The girl blushed fervently as she averted her eyes from Larsa's cobalt ones. "Your arm my lord…" She started in a whisper but was unable to continue. Larsa at once realized that he had unconsciously drawn her so tightly against him with his arm around the slender waist to the point that they were now in a rather dissolute position.

The Solidor heir quickly let his arms drop to his sides as he turned crimson in embarrassment. "F-forgive me my lady… I was not—I was not…"

"It is quite alright my lord, I have taken no offense." The lady smiled sweetly at Larsa, though her cheeks still remained a healthy shade of pink. "Forgive me, but I must take my leave… my mother is waiting." With a curtsy, she left the still discomfited young lord.

Larsa scolded himself silently as he looked about—silently wishing that there were no more ladies to dance with. Seeing no more girls he had not danced with that evening, he felt himself almost melt away with relief. The Solidor then turned to where he had last seen Gabranth standing by the far wall—but the Judge was not there; Larsa frowned. He was about to approach Judge Bergan who stood near his Judge Protector's post but Vayne had called out to him first—asking him to approach the head of the main table.

Upon reaching the table, Vayne quickly seated Larsa by the empty seat on his right side. Vayne stood up and held up the goblet of wine in his hand and proposed a toast. "To my dear brother Larsa, that he may grow up well and attain glory in his reign!" Larsa shied away from the cheers of those at the table—embarrassed and confused at his brother's words.

Vayne seated himself and offered a goblet of wine to the younger heir. "Come now Larsa, will you not drink to your own health?" Larsa looked at the rich vermilion liquid in the goblet as he shook his head. "I shouldn't brother—Drace has told me not to…" The older Solidor clicked his tongue impatiently. "Will you listen to a Judge and not to your brother? Do not be foolish Larsa—it is just one glass of wine. Nothing will happen I assure you… you might even grow fond of it."

Larsa had no intention of vexing his brother that evening so he took the goblet from Vayne and brought it to his lips. The strong scent of the wine flooded the young lord's senses as the rush of bitter-sweet flavor fell on his tongue. The wine was surprisingly appealing to Larsa's taste though he immediately felt his cheeks grow warm as soon as he had finished the contents of his goblet.

"Well… is the wine to your liking Larsa?"

Larsa nodded in response, somewhat ashamed of admitting the fact.

"Then you shall have another!" Vayne quickly signaled to a girl carrying a bottle of wine.

"N-no! I really shouldn't have any more brother!" Larsa tried to protest but it was too late. With a bemused moan, the young lord watched as the girl filled his goblet once more with the deep plum liquor.

"Nonsense! Now drink brother—for our brilliant future!" Vayne laughed rather uncharacteristically as he raised his own goblet while the others at the table did the same.

With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Larsa once more drank the wine given him. What was another glass of wine after all?

- - - - - - - - - -

"Another glass—p-please…" Larsa motioned for the girl with the wine yet again.

The girl approached the young lord though she made no attempt to fill his goblet with wine.

"I don't think so… I think you've had enough."

Larsa looked up at once—no one had spoken to him so… _casually_ before and she even refused him his wine! The younger Solidor was apparently intrigued as he regarded the girl who now stood beside his chair.

She was certainly older than him, Larsa mused… she might even be a good head taller than himself. The girl had braids of blonde hair on either side of her smiling face which made her look a bit younger.

"What? Is there something on my face?" She said in good humor as she sat himself quite comfortably in Vayne's now empty chair. Larsa's cobalt eyes widened at the lady's boldness—did she not know who he was? He was astonished, but not so much as he was amused.

"No no… I w-was jus—t uhm…" Larsa laid a hand on his temple which had now begun to throb, making it difficult for the Solidor heir to think.

"It must be the wine. You're too young to be drinking so much of it you know." The girl quipped again. "By the way, my name is Penelo—and you?"

The young lord felt himself smile. It felt good to be treated so warmly, as if she already addressed him as an equal—as a friend.

"He is Lord Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, younger brother of Vayne Corrudas Solidor and heir to the Emperor of Archadia."

Penelo paled quickly and stood up as she stared wide-eyed at the Judge Magister who seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere and now loomed menacingly at her. Larsa followed her gaze and all but leaped into the knight's arms. "Gabranth you are back! And do stop leering at my guest—you are frightening her!" The Judge Magister noted the young lord's flushed cheeks and the unusually high pitch of his voice. Larsa struggled to get up from his chair, but his knees quickly gave way and he felt himself fall backwards. Penelo was quick to react and made to catch the young lord. However, Gabranth was quicker and had already caught Larsa by the waist even before he reached the girl's outstretched arms.

Larsa broke into small giggles as he made to stand again though the arm around his waist made no attempt to remove itself. "How much has he had?" Gabranth asked as he eyed the wine bottle and empty goblet on the table. Penelo's voice caught in her throat—the cold, unyielding Judge terrified her terribly.

"One! I-I've ha—ad jus—t o-one g-g-laa—ss Gabr—anth!" Larsa interrupted as he held on to an armored arm for support. Gabranth shook his head in consternation.

"He's had about 3 to 4 glasses." Penelo put in hastily as she bowed respectfully. "And I'm very sorry—I had no idea that you were—"

"No—enough Pen—elo. Th—ere is not-nothing to forgive!" The Solidor heir offered a gloved hand with a smile.

Penelo smiled and shook hands with the young lord just before an elderly creature called to her. "Oh no, I must get going—please take care of yourself Lord Larsa." With another bow, she turned to go.

"W-will I see you again?" The young heir asked hopefully.

"Why not?" Penelo called out behind her with a wave as she broke into a slight trot to a far end of the hall.

Larsa breathed deeply, his head felt ostensibly heavy that he unconsciously leant it on Gabranth's arm. "It would be best if you were to retire now my lord." The Judge offered and was surprised that the Solidor heir simply nodded without a word of protest. With a few half-slurred farewells from Larsa and much bowing on Gabranth's part, they finally made it to the dimly lit corridor which leads to the young lord's chambers.

The knight walked in silence, his arm still held Larsa's waist firmly for fear that he would fall over especially with the way the young lord clung to the blonde's arm for support. Gabranth felt his pulse quicken as they approached the all-too-familiar oaken doors—suddenly uncertain if he had done the right thing of bringing the young lord there himself. On the other hand, Larsa was simply humming softly as he walked unsteadily, trying to keep pace with his Judge Protector.

The Judge stopped abruptly upon reaching the massive doors, his whole countenance stiffened considerably. "My lord, perhaps I should call the maidservants so that they may prepare you for bed." Gabranth could hear the awkward tone in his own voice as he spoke.

"No."

The blonde looked at Lord Larsa in disbelievingly, thinking that the young lord might have been thinking of some other matter. "Pardon my lord?"

"No Gabranth… I-I will not h-ave the ma—aidservants prep-prepare me for bed to—night." The young lord said decisively as he reached out and turned one of the golden knobs. The Solidor heir pulled on Gabranth's arm slightly as if coaxing him to step forward, but the blonde refused to go any further. "Should I call Drace then my lord?" He pressed—pleading with his entire mind, (_heart, and body_) that the young lord would not ask it of him to step inside. As if the Judge had spoken his thoughts aloud, Larsa shook his head as he took a few unsteady steps inside his chambers.

"W-would you p-please come insi—ide Gabranth… the-re is something I-I wish to ask you…" Without another word, Larsa disappeared into the inner room, leaving Gabranth to look intently at the partially opened door in front of him.

The knight stood where he was—unmoving as if his very feet were nailed to the marble floor of the hallway. Gabranth heaved a deep breath… why was it that he was here once more? Why was it that he now stood before the very threshold he wished to avoid… at least for the time being? Was it not enough that his limits had been tested the night before? Did the fates wish to push him over the edge? No… he could not do this—not tonight… not so soon after…

Gabranth pursed his lips at his silent admission. Had he been so affected? No… he must act with his mind—his resolve must not and _will not_ be swayed. With a decided stride, the Judge followed the young lord inside. Gabranth locked the door behind him—for whatever reason, he did not know.

For a moment Gabranth could not hear anything but the sound of his own breathing and the grating of his armor as he walked slowly towards the amber light which spilled from the inner room. The blonde hesitated for a moment before he entered the young lord's most private chambers. He bowed low and made to remove his helmet—the prevailing stillness in the room stifled him.

"Who am I to you Judge Magister Gabranth?" Larsa's voice broke through the deafening silence between them—resolute and without a slur that the Judge looked at him intently. There was no doubt that the young lord was intoxicated, with his crimson-flushed face and neck and the unsteady way he stood by his bed—there was no mistaking it. Why then did the Solidor heir sound so unwavering and how could those guileless blue eyes look straight at his own as if they wanted to burn a hole right through him?

"You are my lord, one who I have sworn to protect with my swords and shield." The blonde answered with the same conviction in his voice, though the very mention of his position made him flinch slightly.

"Will you protect me then from the rules of this court? From the bonds of my position and yours?" The young lord pressed as he attempted to walk towards his Judge Protector.

Gabranth hastily walked over to the Solidor heir's side to support him, leaving his helmet forgotten on the very same table he had left it on the night before. "My lord, it is late and you are intoxicated. You must rest… if you wish, we may speak tomorrow." The blonde lifted the young lord with one arm as he pulled back the heavy silk covers with the other and sat Larsa on the edge of the bed.

"But you did not answer my question…" Larsa half-whined. He tilted his head to one side to catch a glimpse of his Judge Protector's face as the blonde now dropped to his knees and began to unlace the young lord's boots. Gabranth sighed inwardly as he pulled off one boot then the other and set them aside before he stood up again. "My lord… I fail to understand your words."

Larsa quickly stood up on the edge of the bed and pressed his small palms on either side of the Judge's face, coaxing the older man to look at him in the face. His whole body seemed to be on fire—his cheeks, his now bare palms (for he had removed his gloves earlier) against the blonde's face, his lips…

"If I ask it of you now Judge Magister—will you kiss me?"

Gabranth froze instantly—his limbs seeming to grow rigid at the young lord's words. Did Lord Larsa actually ask it of him to… _No_, it was impossible. The young lord was drunk—he could not possibly want this out of his own free will. The knight did not know why, but his chest tightened almost unbearably at the thought. Without thinking of his actions, he let his arms slip around Larsa's waist and pulled him close—pressing his cheek against the smaller boy's chest.

"You do not know what you ask of me my lord…" Gabranth whispered as he lifted the lithe form again—this time laying the young lord gently on the cool satin sheets. "Please rest my lord…" But even before the blonde could get up, two slender arms reached out and pulled him back down. In the dim yellow light he could see Larsa's ebony hair, half-lidded sapphire eyes which gazed at him intensely, flushed cheeks, and quivering lips which were slightly parted as the young lord breathed in short, shallow breaths. Gabranth had caught himself with his arms posted on either side of the young lord, afraid that he would crush the fragile form with the sheer weight of his armor.

"My lord _please_…" Gabranth pleaded though he was not certain what it was he pleaded for. Gabranth could smell the heavy scent of the wine as Larsa's breath tickled his face and the Judge's whole being screamed with a near primal desire that he could barely contain it. The blonde slid his eyes closed as he tried to stay his mind and body—fingers digging into the satin coverlet on either side the young lord's pillow.

"Do you not want to?" Larsa cooed beneath him as deft finger intertwined behind the Judge's neck. "Am I not enough for you to want?" Gabranth shook his head. "No no no…" he whispered under his breath as if trying to convince himself though it was almost done half-heartedly. How could he _not want_ the young lord when with all of his willpower, he could barely keep himself at bay?

Without warning, Gabranth suddenly felt soft, warm lips press against his own. The blonde's eyes flew open in shock, his arms nearly gave way at the sudden sensation. Larsa had closed his eyes, arms wrapped tightly around the knight's neck as he kissed him. The kiss was unassuming, a child's kiss… innocent—_too innocent_ that Gabranth could not bear the guilt he felt for wanting to respond to the petal-lips which insistently pressed against his own.

However, Gabranth by virtue of being Lord Larsa's Judge Protector could not bring himself to do it… no, not now… not when his lord was not himself—and so he pulled away reluctantly from the innocent kiss. Larsa opened his eyes which were now glazed with tears which threatened to spill as he looked up at Gabranth's face—wordlessly pleading for words of assurance… explanation… anything at all.

The knight lowered his head as if in defeat—purposely avoiding the sapphire orbs which implored him. "Is this what you ask of me my lord… that I protect you not with my swords but with my lips…" He whispered more to himself than to Larsa, his now dry lips grazing a fevered cheek.

"Is _this_ what you ask of me?"

And without waiting for an answer, Gabranth stood up and left—the only sound which followed was the muffled thud of the oaken door at it was closed. Larsa rolled to his side—unsure of how he should be feeling. He felt as if he wanted to cry, but Gabranth's whispered words seemed enough to assure him… at least for now.

Something on the table by the side of the room caught Larsa's eye—and a small smile formed on his lips before sleep finally claimed him.

**TBC**

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Well… this chapter took a lot less time than I expected. It must be the reviews which have inspired me to reach Chapter V! Yay:) Thank you thank you thank you for everyone who reviewed! Especially who did so more than once—I really, really appreciate it!

I hope you guys liked this chapter… I left it kind of hanging to make way for the next chapter! Heeehee! I was planning on lengthening this encounter when an idea just popped into my head which would make things a lot better in the long run—so _something more_ is definitely going to happen in the next chapter! I hope you guys are still reading it by then. :)

Again, comments and suggestions are very much welcome! Thank you and I hope you enjoyed Chapter V:)

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**Seph**


	6. Chapter 6

Title: The Price of Honor

Author: Seph

Series: Final Fantasy XII

Disclaimers: Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

Summary: 5 years after the defeat of his brother, Lord Larsa Solidor will finally be crowned as Emperor of Archades—or so he should be. However, the only thing which is preventing him from accepting the crown involves one person... the same person who has sworn to protect him, Lord Larsa, as the rightful heir to the throne of Archades. [Gabranth x Larsa

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Overall Story Notes: (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

Timeline[Revised! The story will take the in-game time line but will continue on to a post-game time line if the story lives that long. :P

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Chapter Notes: Chapter VI takes place the morning after the events of Chapter V.

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**Chapter VI**

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The sound of heavy knocking on the doors of his chambers made Larsa painfully aware of the headache which had begun pounding in his temples. The fact that he could barely remember any of the events from the night before only added to the young lord's mounting distress. Without bothering to open his eyes, Larsa turned over in his bed and decided to simply ignore the intrusive knocking in the hopes that whoever it was would just let him be. However, the knocking only increased in intensity and the voice which followed made Larsa wish all the more to disappear in the sea of his bed covers.

"My lord, are you awake? May I enter?" Drace's voice sounded as stern as ever and the Solidor heir felt an unfamiliar feeling of dread creep into his stomach. Larsa tried to tell his Judge protector to leave him be, but his mouth felt too parched—as did his throat, so he could scarcely speak. With a frown, the young lord lifted himself to a sitting position just in time to greet Drace weakly as she made her way into his bed chambers.

"Forgive my intrusion my lord, but it is very unlike you to be late for your afternoon studies… and more so to miss them completely—just as you have today." Drace scolded the Solidor heir lightly as she made her way to the heir's bedside. "My afternoon studies? Why? What time of the day is it?" Larsa asked, undeniably flustered as he looked about his dark chambers. "Surely it is much too early for me to have missed my afternoon studies."

"It is already midday young lord and I am as surprised as you are seeing you here at this hour." Drace shook her head disapprovingly as she drew the curtains—sunlight suddenly flooding Larsa's chambers. "The maidservants have not drawn your curtains, nor have they tidied your bed for you are still in it. You have not bathed—nor have you changed into your bed clothes! My young lord… I leave you for one night and I find you in this manner the next morning—I feel rather guilty." The Judge Magister laughed softly at the sight of the young lord looking rather sheepish as he tried to hide under the thick covers.

Drace was about to go on teasing the young lord but something on the bedroom table caught her attention. The Judge Magister found herself taken aback—like she had been caught off-guard. Drace found herself staring at a familiar 'face'—a helmet, staring blankly with its empty gaze much as did her own. "Gabranth." The name fell almost inaudibly from the Judge Magister's lips.

Cobalt eyes grew wide at the sound of _his_ name. _His_ name. Bits and pieces of the night before flashed in Larsa's head in a blur of color and slurred sounds. "Last night…" Larsa whispered to himself as he unconsciously raised his fingers to his lips. "What did I…"

"_If I asked it of you Judge Magister, will you kiss me?"_

Larsa clutched the covers so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Could I have possibly… Could it have… no… no. The Solidor heir quickly turned his head in Drace's direction and upon seeing what she was transfixed upon, felt his heart plummet to his stomach. "Drace I—" Larsa wanted to speak, to say something in his defense—any explanation to why _it_ was there… to why _he_ had been there; but no words came to him.

"I shall take my leave my lord, I have… much to attend to." Drace was the one who broke the suffocating silence in the room—but her voice was far from comforting to the Solidor heir. Larsa could only look away, purposely avoiding his Judge Protector's eyes. For a moment no other sound was heard except for the heavy footfalls of the Judge as she made her way to the outer chamber. However, she stopped rather abruptly in the middle of the room and in a voice completely unlike her own whispered, "You should go to him… it will not do for the face of a Judge Magister to be seen—by just _anyone_."

Larsa looked up in surprise. He wanted to talk to Drace, but she had already left hastily without another word. Larsa could only mouth a silent "Thank you" before he buried his face in his hands. Memories of the night before began piecing themselves together and the Solidor heir felt his heart race in his chest as the reality of what he had done dawned on him.

How am I to face you now...?

Larsa took a deep breath before he dragged himself out of bed and into the bath, hoping that the hot bath would relieve him of more than just his unceasing headache.

------------------------------

After the bath…

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"What am I to say to you? I cannot even bear the thought of looking you in the eye…" Larsa sighed as he traced a finger lightly over the helmet which stared at him with empty eyes. "I want to have an explanation ready for you… but I have none." The young lord carefully wrapped the helmet with the blanket he brought out and secured it tightly before hauling it off the table. Simply lifting the sheer weight of the helmet already posed a challenge to the Solidor heir, and he knew that carrying something so large would definitely grant him much unwanted attention—a fact which bothered him all the more. However, Larsa knew what he wanted to do... what he _needed_ to do. "I need to see you… whatever happens next—I leave it all to you." And with that, the young lord headed out the doors of his chambers with his heavy bundle.

Of course, theoretically, all Larsa had to do was walk right up to his Judge Protector in his chambers, return the helmet, apologize, and perhaps straighten things out before leaving; however, the Solidor heir wanted slap himself as he realized that he did not know where the Judge Magisters' quarters were located. He knew that he could not possibly ask any of the other Judges, it would undoubtedly arouse suspicion so the young lord did the next best thing he could think of—he followed one.

Larsa eyed the Judge who just passed him by the corridor, noting that it was neither Drace nor Zargabath (for either would have made such a fuss over him and his inexplicably large bundle). With as much discretion as he could possibly practice, Larsa followed Ghis (who he figured the Judge must be) as the Magister strolled rather leisurely along the castle's long corridors. On the other hand, Larsa had the most unpleasant experience of lugging around the heavy helmet as well as having to pretend that he was doing nothing out of the ordinary—which was hardly the case.

Too numerous were the maidservants and nobles who had offered to aid the slight boy that he was more than grateful when Ghis turned to a rather far hallway and finally disappeared through one of the doors (which, Larsa assumed had been the Judge's quarters). Larsa took a moment to survey his surroundings—he had lived in the castle all his life, but he could not say that he actually took time to explore it. The young lord had always been busy with either his studies or his fencing lessons so it was no surprise that he found himself wondering why he'd never set foot on this particular corridor before.

Larsa looked around warily, afraid that Drace would just come out of nowhere and appear behind him as she often did. Relieved to find no trace of the elder Judge in the area, the Solidor heir then proceeded to what he had set out to do. The corridor had six doors, three on either side—one of which lead to Judge Ghis' quarters. Larsa frowned, he still had five doors to choose from and opening any other door aside from Gabranth's own would have serious consequences. The idea of opening the door to Judge Drace's quarters made the young lord break into a cold sweat.

As the cruel fates would have it, another door in the hallway opened abruptly and the Judge herself emerged from the room. Larsa was caught completely off-guard that he found himself unable to move; as if his feet were nailed to the very spot he stood on. It did not take long for the older Judge to find him in such a state, but for some reason Drace did not seem the least bit surprised nor did she make a commotion as Larsa feared. Instead, the Judge walked over to the young lord and squeezed his small shoulder gently. "Speak to him… for you are the only one who can."

"Drace, what do you—" Larsa caught hold of the woman's gloved hand before it left his shoulder and he looked up at her—eyes silently pleading for any form of explanation. "Drace please…" The Judge fell on one knee and placed her hands on Larsa's shoulders. "My lord, there is only so much that I can give to you. My sword I shall wield to protect you till death himself pries it from my hands... but what you seek, I do not have it." Drace wanted nothing more than to embrace her charge, to comfort him, to love him as a child, but for now she knew that words would have to do. "In there," She continued, pointing to the room from which she had emerged from "go to him." And with that, Drace left as quickly as she had come.

Larsa followed his Judge Protector with his eyes until she finally disappeared at a junction in the hallways. "What I seek… what do I seek Drace? What is it that you know and understand that I do not?" The young lord shook his head to clear it as he took small, rather shaky steps toward the door Drace had pointed to. He lifted his fist to knock on the wooden door but stopped and let his hand fall limply at his side.

How am I to face you now…

Do you hate me?

Should you hate me for what I have done…

What I have done... is something I do not even understand.

Larsa steeled himself and raised his fist again, but before he could even knock—the door opened brusquely and there stood Judge Gabranth himself.

"M-my lord!" The blonde half-shouted before he could stop himself as he quickly stepped back from the doorway. Larsa was equally surprised, and for the second time that same morning, he felt as if his feet were nailed to the ground. "G-Gabranth… I… I…" The young lord started but his tongue failed him completely that he wordlessly lifted his bundle with both hands with his face turned down in an attempt to hide his apparent embarrassment.

The Judge hastily took the bundled helmet with a slight bow. "I am most grateful my lord. Forgive me for not having retrieved it myself earlier." Gabranth recovered his composure at once but the fact that the Solidor heir was in his doorway caused him a little more than surprise; and not being in his armor added to the Judge Magister's unease.

For a moment both Judge and heir stood as they were, both unmoving, waiting… for something—anything to happen. "I am truly very grateful my lord, but I am afraid that we cannot conduct any business here any longer…" Gabranth trailed off with a rather rueful sigh.

"Why ever not?! If I wish to talk to you, then I shall! I have every right to." Larsa replied as he defiantly looked up at the older man.

"Yes my lord, you are entitled with every right to do what you will. However, it would be best if we were to talk someplace else… it is not proper for royalty to be in the quarters of Judges."

"Gabranth, you are the leader of the Magisters and my own Judge Protector—surely you do not consider yourself a mere Judge now do you?" The Solidor heir pressed, determined to get more out of his protector than mere formalities.

"But I am a Judge nonetheless. If you would but wait for a moment my lord when I am modestly dressed, perhaps then we may speak in your study." Gabranth tried to reason with the young lord, but Larsa was as persistent as ever.

Just as Larsa was about to mouth another hot retort, the sound of a door opening interrupted him. Gabranth was quick to react; he pulled the young lord inside quite roughly before he narrowed the opening of the door just enough for him to slightly see the corridor outside. Judge Bergan emerged from the newly-opened door, followed by Judge Zargabath—and much to Gabranth's distress, both Judges chose to engage in a serious discussion right in the hallway!

"By the gods… why do the fates play with me so…" The Judge whispered as he pressed his back to the door, shutting it tight.

"Do you detest my presence in your quarters so vehemently Gabranth that you wish to be rid of me at once?" Larsa hissed, though he was angry, it was the pain more than his anger which laced the Solidor heir's words.

"My lord…" Gabranth began, but he was immediately cut short.

"I-if it has anything to do about how I behaved last night—"

"No. Last night was… last night I… you…" The Judge ran his fingers through his golden hair—something which he had not done in a long time, and with good reason. This old habit belied Gabranth's anxiety, and that was something he had learned to keep beneath the surface. He let his eyes rest on Larsa who looked right back at him, sadness and fear painted on his boyish features.

"I… I do not really comprehend what I did last night… but seeing you now, I have to ask… Gabranth, was _it_ so bad?" Larsa's voice nearly broke as he tried to give an explanation, but he knew more than anyone else that he no explanation to give—no real understanding of what he had done… only that it had _felt right_ at that moment. "E-even if I was intoxicated—"

"My lord, what happened last night is no fault of your own. You were intoxicated and whatever action you may have taken because of it has no purpose to be talked about. There is nothing to forgive my lord, you need not apologize for anything." Gabranth wanted nothing more than for the conversation to end. Because of last night he was deprived of a decent night's rest… he was at his wit's end… his self-control was waning considerably and he _knew_ that he was fighting a losing battle.

"Does it make any difference if I was intoxicated or not? My actions were my own and no one else's!" The young lord could only take so much formality. If only Gabranth would react in some way—any way, perhaps he would understand even a little of what was happening to him.

"What is it that you seek from me my lord?" Gabranth felt his temples throb at the Solidor heir's barrage; the last thing he wanted was for Lord Larsa to feel terrible about himself and yet he could say nothing that would ease the escalating tension.

"What I seek…? I don't know… I only want answers—answers which you refuse to give me."

"Answers…" The knight paced restlessly across the room, his bare forearm brushing slightly against the Solidor heir. The boy's skin was cool and yet the Judge pulled his arm away abruptly as if he had been burnt. It was strange he thought, to be clad in only his pants and sleeveless tunic and still feel as if he was on fire.

"Was it bad… was it really?" Larsa urged as he took a step towards his Judge Protector, yet still afraid to meet equally piercing cobalt eyes.

Gabranth turned towards his charge and let out a deep sigh. "No… no it was not."

"Then why… why do you avoid my queries so fervently? Was it because I was intoxicated that you feel it is improper to talk about it?"

"Perhaps… yes. Your actions then were not of your own accord. You were—"

"Would you think of it any different if I was sober?" At this, Larsa looked up to look Gabranth in the eye, his lithe frame slightly quivering with emotion.

"I beg that we not talk of this any longer." Gabranth wished to sound resolute, but his voice sounded doubly uncertain even to his own ears. Should this conversation continue, the knight did not know what would become of him.

As if he did not hear his Judge Protector, Larsa pressed on as he took another step closer. "If I were to ask it of you now… now that you know that I am sober… now that I am to ask it of you right here—"

"Enough. My lord I beg of you—enough of this." The blonde shut his eyes tightly, the civil war inside him raged on as he struggled to maintain control of the situation.

"Gabranth—"

A hand slipped beneath the soft curve of Larsa's chin, and before Gabranth could stop himself—kissed the young lord. The blonde watched as Sapphire eyes grew wide in surprise then slowly slid closed as small fingers curled loosely in the folds of his tunic. For a moment, Gabranth lost himself in the feeling of tender lips pressed softly against his own—but the awareness of what he was doing came swiftly, and the Judge pulled away.

"Enough my lord… we—you and I must have enough of this." Gabranth whispered hoarsely, turning away from the boy lest he forget himself yet again.

Larsa could only gaze up at his Judge Protector, confusion evident in his face as he raised his fingers to brush against his lips. "I… I am not certain if I understand Gabranth. You say enough and yet you… and still we… Gabranth…"

Cobalt and cobalt alike met with such ferocity that even with both parties were unmoving, the tension between them mounted almost uncontrollably. The young lord's cheeks burned crimson, but he did nothing to conceal it for he felt as if his eyes had already completely betrayed him. His whole body seemed to be singing some unknown song, as if it was calling out with some need the boy did not understand—only that it haunted him, made him weak in the knees. And right at that moment as their eyes battled silently, Larsa felt his body ignite with this heated song as if the Judge himself was fanning the flames.

No words were spoken before satin descended upon silk lips for another kiss. Gabranth held the young lord tight—the boy's skin flush against his own as he continued to claim the petal-soft lips. This time, it was Larsa who pulled away—but a hand on his nape stopped him, and pulled him back into the kiss.

_This has gone far enough Gabranth… restrain yourself._

_No._

Without another thought, Gabranth slowly swept the seam of Larsa's lips with his tongue. A wide-eyed gasp from the young lord grants the Judge entrance and he obliges by delving this tongue deep into the boy's cavern. The fire in Gabranth's veins almost consumed him as he tasted his young lord for the first time—he was sweet, so sweet that it was addicting—almost intoxicating; and intoxicated he was.

Larsa's fingers clutched tightly at his Judge Protector's tunic as his body unconsciously arched against the older man. Everything seemed to be in a heated rush as Gabranth claimed the boy's mouth with his tongue which continued its languid exploration.

Soft… for Gabranth, everything about the young lord was soft—his voice especially… and now that the boy called him…

"m—G-g-abranth…" Larsa gasped as he turned his head slightly away—just enough so that he could speak. "Yes my lord…" Gabranth trailed off as he nipped an exposed earlobe lightly earning him an unrestrained moan from the boy—a soft cry which teetered at the brink of obscenity. And again, words were lost as lips met once more in a blur of sensations.

Neither heard the voices from outside over the ringing in their ears until a sharp knock on the door succeeded in bringing Gabranth back to his senses. He hastily broke off the kiss and smoothened out Larsa's hair with a slight nod, grateful that the young lord quickly understood the situation that they were in. Both took long deep breaths as they straightened themselves out, consciously averting their eyes from one another. Mutual embarrassment? Perhaps.

Gabranth pulled Larsa behind him as he opened the door slightly, cursing silently at the sight of Judge Ghis peering inquiringly at him.

"What is it you want Ghis? The blonde barked more harshly than he had intended.

"Believe me, if it had not come from the Emperor himself I would not bother you in your quarters Sir, but as it is... it cannot be helped. The emperor is looking for young Lord Larsa. It is strange that the young lord is not in his study, and moreso that he is not within your company or that of Drace. Well, it is only right that I inform you sir, I take my leave."

Gabranth closed the door and took a deep breath before he turned towards the young lord in question. Larsa was looking at his shoes, like a child who had done something wrong; though his gloved hand hung loosely in Gabranth's grip.

"Are you afraid my lord?" For what purpose he asked it, the Judge did not bother to ponder it.

A slight shake of the head. "No."

"Then—"

"You are… the first—"

"Forgi—"

"…and only one."

The Judge fell silent, unsure of what to say… even as the small hand slipped free from his own.

"My father is looking for me… I shall go see him, then perhaps…"

"I shall see you as soon as you are done my lord."

"Mm… yes, as soon as I am done. Thank you Gabranth." Larsa nodded as he headed for the door which the knight opened for him.

Larsa turned and smiled at his Judge Protector before he finally stepped out and walked away until he disappeared at the juncture… and for the first time since _everything_ started, Gabranth was the one left to mull over his thoughts.

"_...and only one."_

A promise of faithfulness over something which had no name… something which had not been discussed in any form?

A small smile formed on the Judge Magister's lips.

Addicting, yet utterly complicated.

Undoubtedly difficult, at other times—obstinate.

_Enough_… but never really _enough_.

Bittersweet.

Perhaps that is just the kind of person Lord Larsa is.

"And he will be the death of me…" Gabranth mused to himself as he collapsed almost bonelessly unto his bed with a quiet, almost inaudible chuckle.

**----------------------------------------------**

First of all, I would like to apologize profusely for not updating for so long. I actually had this idea brewing for a while, but it's only now that I actually had time to type it.

I got too caught up in my studies to actually get back to writing last semester, but I'm hoping to change that now. :) So that means… more chapters to come! Yay:)

A big thank you to all those who left comments/reviews/suggestions—I really, really appreciate them! Plus, they keep me writing:) Please continue to read my story… and please keep the reviews and suggestions coming. :P

Anyway, as for the story... O.O Uhm…. I didn't mean for Gabranth to go that far… but he did! X.x So I suppose the rating is going to go up (though not anytime soon… I hope! X.x)!! This chapter makes way for the initial conflict (and it's going to be a cruel one). Ok, I won't say anymore lest I give myself away again. :x

Please continue reading my story please! I hope you enjoyed Chapter VI:)

**----------------------------------------------**

Seph


	7. Chapter 7

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes:** Chapter 7 takes place after the commotion at the Lhusu Mines in Bhujerba.

**VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

I just came back from a three-year hiatus and decided that I will try to continue this story, since it is very close to my heart. :) I have just started refreshing my memory by reading the game script and I have some fresh new ideas to put in. **I will revise the main timeline **which was supposed to take place 5 years after the game, because I realized that the in-game relationship between Gabranth and Larsa is much more interesting to write about.

Needless to say, I think that my writing has somehow changed over the years—and hopefully, you will enjoy my slightly more mature take on this pairing. Without much further ado, please enjoy my resurrection of The Price of Honor.

Much love, Seph. :)

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Larsa winced as his torn glove was removed, revealing the raw skin beneath—a result of the mad rush they had through the Lhusu Mines with the Bangaa gang at their heels. "This may sting a bit, but it will get better." Basch's low voice whispered comfortingly as he ran cold water from his canteen over the small hand which he held in his much larger one. Larsa nodded though he did his best to stifle a soft whimper. "It is alright, I am grateful for your Basch."

The young lord looked up shyly as the older man began to bandage his hand with strips he had taken from his own clothes. Basch had a strong face, high cheekbones and a square jaw. There was a striking resemblance between this man and Gabranth, even if the former grew his blonde hair longer and left it looking rather dishevelled. There was also the way Basch looked and talked to him; the older man's eyes, tone, and general manner about him seemed very warm and gentle, though still tough—Gabranth was often cold and unyielding in his ways and Larsa secretly wished that his Judge Protector could be more like Basch.

"Is that better Lamont?" Basch asked as he ran callous fingers over the boy's newly bandaged hand. Larsa's head shot up, suddenly embarrassed for having entertained such thoughts about this man he had just met—his pale cheeks suddenly flushed with colour. "I-It is much better Basch. Th-thank you." Larsa stuttered uncharacteristically as he withdrew his bandaged hand, although it was done almost half-heartedly. "Are you alright? You seem a little flushed." The blonde tried to rest a hand on the young lord's forehead, but Larsa quickly moved away in a slight panic, his back hitting Balthier who was leaning casually against the cave wall.

"If you are done pampering the boy, I believe it is best we leave these mines. There is no telling when Ba'gamnan and the rest of his gang will come running after us again." The sky pirate moved dangerously close to Larsa, circling him before he pinned the young lord against the cave wall. "Tell me again, boy, who are you and why is it that you are so well informed of this Nethicite?"

Blue eyes went wide in surprise at the inappropriate closeness of the sky pirate and he shook his head almost in a panic. "I have said it once, I will say it again. My name is Lamont and my errand is my own—as is yours. Leave me be Balthier, I will go and say not further." Larsa tried his best to avoid Balthier's piercing gaze, but was soon saved from the predicament when Basch interrupted the latter. "Let the boy go Balthier, we have done what we came for in these mines—his business is his own." The captain laid a hand on the sky pirate's shoulder, and the former released Larsa from his hold. "Go before I change my mind about you." Balthier waved his hand dismissively before turning his back to the young lord.

Larsa nodded in thanks to Basch as he began to walk out of the mouth of the Lhusu Mines, his bandaged hand cradled in his better one. The older man smiled at him, "may we meet again Lamont."

When Lamont was out of sight, Fran looked around and gave a small sigh of relief. "It would not seem they follow. We've lost them." Balthier shouldered his gun and gave a laugh, "Much more running about with Bangaa at my heels... and I'm apt to give up sky pirating altogether." The rest of the group straightened themselves before beginning their walk back to Bhujerba.

They were almost out of the Lhusu Mines, but Balthier stopped the group from proceeding further—pointing cautiously at a Judge Magister in the vicinity who seemed to be talking to Lamont. Vaan and Balthier moved closer to watch the situation more closely, in case the boy needed to be rescued—again.

"I see you've been out walking without the company of your cortege Lord Larsa." The Judge shook his head in disapproval at the young lord as he motioned for his soldiers to bring forward a young girl whom they had restrained. "We caught her wandering out of the mines. You must take care with such undesirables about."

"I was kidnapped-!" The blonde girl started but was quickly silenced by the Judge Magister. Larsa's eyes widened in recognition at the braided, blonde girl—Penelo! The servant girl at his brother's welcoming feast, of course! She must also be Vaan's friend who had been captured by Ba'gamnan and his gang. All the pieces fit together and a small smiled played on the boy's lips.

"If it is a crime to wander on one's own... then I, too, am guilty. Marquis, I trust that your estate can accommodate another guest?" Larsa asked Marquis Ondore politely and the latter was happy to oblige. "Judge Ghis, I shall heed your counsel. I will not travel unaccompanied any longer." With that said, the young lord took Penelo's hand and led her away.

Vahn looked at Balthier with an incredulous look on his face, "What's Penelo doing? And what's the deal with that Lamont?" Balthier shook his head, "That's no "Lamont". Larsa Ferrinas Solidor. Fourth son to Emperor Gramis... and brother to Vayne."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Penelo stretched her legs as she sat on the couch in the Ondore Estate's drawing room. "So Vaan really is all right. I didn't think I'd ever get to see him again." A small smile played on her lips, but she sighed ruefully. Larsa walked over to the couch and rested his bandaged hand on one of its arms, "You will join him soon. Until then, I shall see that you're kept from harm."

"Thank you." Penelo whispered, but kept her head bowed low.

"I am troubled. The Rabanastre Imperial Guard appears to have overstepped their bounds. I intend to speak with the Consul." Larsa said thoughtfully, more to himself than Penelo.

Penelo looked wide-eyed at the young lord. "What?"

"Vayne Solidor, the Consul, is my brother. I believe Gabranth told you that during his welcoming feast." The young lord stifled a laugh as Penelo looked a little more flustered than she already was. "The first duty of the Consul is to maintain order in Dalmasca. My brother—my brother is not one given to failure. Perhaps things aren't going as well as they might be... but give him a little time, and he will put things to right. Be not troubled. My brother is a remarkable man."

"But he frightens me." Penelo said in a soft voice.

"Why?"

Penelo looked uncertain but was determined to engage the young lord in conversation. "I'm sorry. He is your brother. It's just—you don't understand how much we lost to the war. My friends, my parents." The girl looked back down on her lap, tears welling up in her eyes. No matter how strong a front she put up for Vaan and the other orphans, there was still that void in her chest that ached every time she was reminded of what the war took from her—what her life should have been like.

"So you fear the empire?" Larsa walked over to Penelo and knelt before her. "Listen to me. The men of my family, we are taught to place the needs of others before those of our own. I will see that you are kept from harm. It is my duty to House Solidor."

"But how—how can I trust you?"

"Because I give you my word. My brother would do no less." Larsa got up and offered Penelo a genuine smile. The girl smiled back, perhaps she could bring herself to trust Larsa—he was not so bad, at least for an Imperial.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"So you would kill even your own brother for the empire. Be that as it may, Gabranth, your ruthlessness is not without merit. But it must not become this way with Larsa. You must ensure that it does not." The Emperor Gramis felt weak because of his illness, but his words were firm. He trusted Gabranth as a Judge Magister and as his youngest son's Judge Protector, but the man's coldness frightened him slightly—Larsa must not grow up so cold.

Gabranth felt a strange feeling well up in his chest at the mention of his young ward, but he chose to ignore it for the time being. "So then, you ask me to be his sword, to strike where he might not?"

The Emperor shook his head, "Rather be his shield. Gabranth, keep a close watch on Vayne. His is the keenest blade of all."

"My lord—"

"Do this for me, Gabranth. I could not—I could not bear... to see my sons war with each other again." The Emperor began to cough again, but he did his best to keep his head high. If he were to die soon, he felt relieved that he had given his last orders to the one man he trusted with his youngest son's life.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Gabranth clenched and unclenched his fists, the only sign of his growing agitation as he waited at the airship dock. He had been ordered to await the arrival of Lord Larsa from Bhujerba, and though the young lord did not return alone, Gabranth still felt ill at ease in knowing that the boy had left without telling him—and returned with Judge Ghis of all people!

At last, the airship landed with a soft thud on the dock, and Larsa was more than happy to be back on solid ground. He really did have a strong dislike for airship travel—it made him feel nauseous and his stomach felt very disagreeable most of the time. Before Judge Ghis or any of the other Imperials could accompany him, Larsa had already made his way down the lowered gang plank.

The young lord's heart sank as he saw a familiar armoured figure standing almost motionlessly at the end of the plank. Gabranth. Larsa felt guilty for having left Archades without telling his Judge Protector, but he knew that Gabranth would have absolutely prohibited him from going—or would have shadowed him wherever he went, it just couldn't be helped. Larsa slowed his pace down the plank and stopped right in front of his Judge Protector, expecting a greeting of some sort or anything to show that the older man harboured no bad feelings for not being informed. However, Gabranth merely nodded without a word and led the young lord to where a transport was waiting.

The trip home was deathly quiet. The silence between Larsa and Gabranth was suffocating and the obvious tension, almost palpable—yet neither said a word. Larsa wanted to say something—anything that would make things alright, but he knew that his Judge Protector was very upset with him and so he stayed his tongue, choosing to cradle his bandaged hand instead since it had begun throbbing again.

Back at the castle in the Imperial City of Archades, Larsa began to wonder when Gabranth was going to speak to him again. The Judge Magister walked unusually fast and without any effort to reduce his long strides so that the young lord could keep up with him. There was no other sound in the castle hallways except for the grating of the armour of the Judges and the other soldiers who accompanied them.

At a fork in the corridor, Judge Ghis motioned to Gabranth. "My duty is to bring Lord Larsa home safely, as he is in your care now, I believe that your presence will be sufficient as my presence is needed elsewhere." Gabranth nodded his acquiesce before Ghis and the other Imperial soldiers took their leave, leaving the young lord and his Judge Protector awkwardly alone. Larsa looked up at Gabranth, but was only met with the blank stare of the Judge's helmet—he frowned.

"The Emperor wishes to see that you have arrived safely." The Judge involuntarily placed an armoured hand lightly on the young lord's back as if to lead him to the Emperor's receiving chambers. Larsa nearly jumped at the sudden contact, too lost in thought at why Gabranth could be so upset over something so little... well, given the state of his bandaged hand, he could not really say that it was a small matter. He nodded and let himself be guided to where his father waited for him.

Gabranth chose to stay outside, believing he had no business in a talk between father and son. He leant against one of the heavy oak double doors of the chambers, his armour suddenly feeling thrice as heavy. The Judge Magister sighed as he closed his eyes, he had been so worried and he could not help but feel a little angry at not having been informed. Did the young lord not trust him? Did he not want him to be at his side? Was Larsa avoiding him? His thoughts ran and crashed against each other and he felt a headache coming on.

Suddenly, one of the double doors creaked open and Larsa slipped out of the room, looking at the Judge Magister expectantly. Gabranth did not say a word but only straightened himself from his leaning position and nodded. The young lord sighed as he began to walk back to his chambers, was Gabranth intent on not speaking to him at all? He just couldn't bear it.

When they reached a fork, one corridor leading to the Judge's quarters and the other leading to his chambers, Larsa made a drastic decision and took the former. Gabranth felt his body turn rigid under his armour, why would the young lord take this corridor—it only meant... "By the gods, no..." The Judge Magister whispered to himself as he hastened his pace to catch up with Larsa who seemed intent to reach his destination.

The young lord balled his hands into fists as he made walked briskly, stopping only before the only familiar door in the corridor, though he had only been there once before. Gabranth grabbed Larsa's uninjured hand and tried to pull him back, "I will take you to your chambers my lord." The onyx-haired youth shook his head, "No. I wish to stay here. Open this door."

"We should—I cannot Lord Larsa." The Judge Magister bit his lip, grateful that the helm he wore hid his apparent distress.

"I order you Judge Magister Gabranth, to open this door." Larsa's tone left no room for discussion and the older man did what he was told. He turned the knob and opened the door, cautiously looking about to make sure that no one was around. When the young lord had stepped into his chambers, Gabranth followed inside quickly before he locked the door behind them.

Larsa looked at his hand which the Judge Magister still held in his and allowed himself a small smile. "Gabranth, I truly am sorry. I apologize for not telling you where I was going—I was absolutely certain you would not have approved."

The Judge Magister sighed, there was no way out of this now. Gabranth reached for his helm and unhinged it from his armour, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "You could have gotten hurt and the duty falls on me to prevent that from happening." The blonde turned his back on the young lord as he rested his helm on the armour stand.

"But I am alright, and I am home now—I returned did I not? I have come back to you safely..." Larsa sounded sheepish, but he could not help being stubborn at times. He disliked being treated as a helpless child, and Gabranth knew perfectly well how to make him feel like he was one.

The Judge Magister turned and took the young lord's bandaged hand in his gauntleted one. "This could have been worse—what if the next time, it was not just your hand? What if I was not there again to protect you? What if you do not come back to me?" The blonde could not stop himself, all the anxiety spilling into this uncharacteristic monologue.

"But I am home... I am with you now, I shall not run from you again Gabranth." Larsa whispered apologetically as he pressed a warm cheek against the cold Magister plate which protected Gabranth's chest. Gabranth's anger crumbled in his chest and he knelt in front of his young lord before gathering him in strong arms. "Do not do this to me again my lord..." The blonde's lips ghosted over flushed cheeks, almost touching but not quite.

Gabranth became acutely aware of the situation—with the exception of a few chaste kisses in dark corners of the castle when no one was around to watch, they had not gone further after their heated encounter in this same room a few weeks prior. The Judge Magister could not trust himself around the young lord—not alone inside his chambers, and especially not in his arms, so open and willing.

Soft lips met his in a chaste kiss, but Gabranth quickly moved away—or tried to. However, small hands cupped his face and blue eyes begged him to stay. "Do not run away from me..."

Whatever was left of the Magister's resolve left him as Larsa pressed his lips against the blonde's—a little awkward, innocent, and unassuming. Gabranth responded, easily taking control of the kiss, he felt as if he was treading on thin ice—the dull burning in his chest suddenly bursting to life as he claimed petal-soft lips with his own. A few closed-mouth kisses did nothing to deter the desire that now burned through Gabranth's veins.

Gauntleted fingers tangled themselves in Larsa's black hair as their owner pulled the young lord closer to him. Larsa pressed his bare hands against the cold metal of the Magister's plate as he did his best to mimic the movement of Gabranth's lips against his own. A soft moan escaped the boy's lips and Gabranth delved his tongue into the welcoming heat. Larsa's fingers clutched tightly at armoured arms that held him as he tried to remain upright, his knees buckling from the strange sensation that ran up his spine.

Gabranth gently pushed the young lord down on his bed, drawing a deep breath as ebony locks spilled around Larsa's young face like a dark halo. The sight was too enticing and too sinful all at once that the Judge had to hold back—he just didn't trust himself around the young Solidor, and the pain in the most uncompromising places reminded him of his limitations. Gabranth pulled himself to a sitting position on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees as he cradles his head in his hands. He tried to clear his head of the unbridled desire that now seemed to govern it.

Larsa bit his lip at Gabranth's sudden withdrawal, and he sat up, slowly wrapping his arms best he could around the older man's torso. "Do you not want this Gabranth... because I—I do not understand what I am feeling, but I know I w-want this..." The Solidor did not know what he was asking for, but each time they kissed, it felt right—and he did not understand why Gabranth seemed to both want it and not want it.

The Magister ran his hands through his short blonde hair before trailing his fingers down a flushed cheek. "Do you trust me my lord, beyond the proprieties of your position and mine?" Gabranth's voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears, his fingers suddenly shaking at the realization of the gravity of what he was asking for.

"I do Gabranth, with my life."

The Judge Magister stood up and unhinged the plate from his chest and hung it on the armour stand where his helm rested. He fumbled with uncharacteristic clumsiness with the locks of his gauntlets before he finally succeeded in removing them. He took a deep breath as he laid the rest of his armour on the stand before he returned to Larsa who looked back at him with a small smile.

The bed shifted as Gabranth rested his weight on it, pulling the young lord down gently with him. The older man pressed the boys back against his chest, pulling Larsa close to him with one arm while the boy's head rested on the other. They laid there silently for a while, an awkward silence hanging in the air until Gabranth's fingers began to ghost lightly over blushing cheeks, slightly parted-lips, a racing heart-beat beneath thin fabric, until they rested on the hem of Larsa's now rumpled tunic.

"Gabranth... I—" Larsa began but was cut short as lips descended upon his. However, this kiss was unlike their first—the Judge's lips pressed a bit harder, tongue slipping between slightly parted lips as Larsa moaned into the kiss. The blonde sucked the boy's lower lip gently, earning him another whimper, small fingers tangling in his golden hair.

The taste of the young lord filled Gabranth's senses, he felt like a beast driven by instinct as he delved his tongue deeper into the Solidor's sweet cavern. Larsa tried his best to mimic what Gabranth was doing, tongue shyly meeting the older man's own, and the contact made him press closer against the Magister's chest.

Calloused fingers slipped underneath the thin fabric of the Solidor heir's tunic and the boy inhaled sharply, breaking the kiss. Larsa bit his lip as he arched involuntarily into the touch, head turning to one side, his hair spilling unto the immaculate white of the Judge's sheets. Gabranth planted a soft kiss on Larsa's ear before he used his tongue to trace the sensitive shell making Larsa cry out, his cheeks flushed with an even deeper shade of pink.

Gabranth ran his palms over the unblemished skin of Larsa's stomach up to his chest, stopping only above the young lord's heart which was frantically beating under his touch. "My lord—I do not know how far I can take this without losing what little control I have left..." Gabranth breathed huskily into Larsa's ear, teeth gently nipping at the exposed lobe. Half-lidded blue eyes looked up at the blonde and Larsa took one of Gabranth's hands in his. "Then show me, Gabranth, that I am enough for you to relinquish that control."

The Judge slowly traced small kisses along the side of Larsa's face down to his neck, teeth barely grazing the smooth skin beneath his lips. Clumsy, inexperienced hands tugged at his tunic insistently and the Judge removed the offending clothing, casting it off haphazardly. Gabranth pushed up the thin tunic, revealing the pale skin of the young lord's stomach and chest. Larsa shyly turned slightly to his side, as if to hide his sudden partial nakedness.

Gabranth smiled against the blushing skin as he trailed his fingers over it, lips not leaving the boy's neck. The Judge's lips rested on a particular spot which made Larsa stifle a gasp and writhe slightly under Gabranth's body. Gabranth dipped his tongue on the sensitive spot between neck and shoulder and Larsa whimpered, lying on his back, forgetting his earlier shyness. Larsa wrapped arms around his Judge Protector's neck, pulling him down and the blonde braced himself on both arms to keep himself from crushing the fragile body beneath him.

Gabranth laid a hand on the crest which held part of the tunic together and paused for a moment, but Larsa pulled it off for him, sensing his guardian's hesitation. The blonde licked down to the young lord's collar bone making Larsa arch up beneath him, lips quivering in a tirade of nonsensical whispers. Gabranth pulled himself up back to eye level with Larsa, his cobalt eyes searching equally cobalt ones. "My lord... how do you feel...?"

The Solidor heir opened half-lidded eyes and let a smile play on his lips before he sat up and pulled himself tight against his guardian's chest. He closed his eyes and listened to the strong heart beneath the bare chest—comforted by the steady beat. Gabranth held Larsa in his arms, neither speaking, their breath being the only sound between them. "I am glad to be here with you now..." The boy traced a rather large battle scar than ran across the Judge's chest lightly with a finger tip before pressing a light kiss on a tan shoulder.

"As am I, my lord, as am I." The Judge gently spooned the Solidor heir, pulling the covers around them. Gabranth watched as patches of sunlight played on the white coverlet as he steadied his breathing, one arm draped over Larsa while the other supported his head.

"Gabranth... do you think that what we're doing—that we're doing something wrong?" Larsa looked up at his Judge Protector, lower lip caught between his lips in earnest worry. The Magister looked down and kissed the boy's forehead affectionately. "We have a few more hours before dusk, you may rest here till then."

Larsa frowned at the Judge's evasive answer, but the exhaustion from his trip to the Lhusu Mines as well as the nauseating airship voyage back to Archades caught up with him and the boy's eyes suddenly felt heavy. He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand before curling up against Gabranth's strong chest. "Perhaps I will rest a while."

The Judge Magister moved to get up but Larsa stopped him. "Stay?"

And Gabranth was more than happy to oblige.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

My apologies for the overly long chapter, but it just kept lengthening and lengthening itself, I couldn't find a decent place to cut it. :/ Also, I inserted portions of the game story line to give this story more background and to give the readers an idea of what point in the game the events are taking place. :)

Well, if ever anyone is still reading this... comment and suggestions are still highly appreciated. Constructive criticism is also welcome, given that my writing has changed over the past three years—but please be nice. :p

Thank you for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. :)

Much love,

Seph


	8. Chapter 8

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes:** Chapter 8 happens after the party's escape from the Dreadnought Leviathan which sunk along with the 8th fleet of the Archadian Imperial Army.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"The Rozarrian Empire assembles a vast host under guise of martial exercises. It is our belief they wait for the proper pretest... the sooner to make their strike against Archadia. The loss of the Leviathan and her fleet at such a time comes as a most grievous blow. Were Rozarria to invade, that battle would be hard-fought. Had Lord Vayne not deployed the fleet so conspicuously... we would not now find ourselves in such perilous circumstances."

A senate member raised his voice over the council, pointing out the damage the Archadian Empire sustained at the loss of the 8th fleet of the Imperial Army in the battle in Jagd, along with its flagship, the Dreadnought Leviathan. Another senate member concurred with the former's distress over the situation.

"Lord Vayne shall be made to answer for his actions. It is the will of the Senate. Excellency, though he be your son, justice must be served."

The Emperor Gramis shook his head and rested it against his palm. "A convenient thing, justice. And so I must now make a choice... between my throne, and my son."

Another member of the senate put a hand on his chest in what clearly appeared to be false sympathy. "A most lamentable situation for us all."

"Oh? For Lord Vayne, perhaps, yet surely Lord Larsa will make for a fine emperor." Another suggested knowingly.

At the mention of his youngest son's name, Emperor Gramis raised his head, a frown clearly drawn thin on his lips. "Larsa so adores his brother, and he is yet young."

"But he will not remain young forever. Already he busies himself unravelling Lord Vayne's tangled skein. Lord Larsa has found his role to play, and pursues it with some enthusiasm.

"Ah, yes... and who would set him at such tasks?" The Emperor did his best to keep the sarcasm at bay, his obvious disdain for the Senate dripping from his words.

"What matter? Lord Vayne himself once saw his elder brothers brought to like justice, did he not? At your Excellency's behest, as I recall." A senate member replied slyly, menace lacing his voice like poison.

Emperor Gramis began to cough heavily, leaning on his desk for support.

The senate member who had been speaking continued, his tone—ominous. "You may put yourself at ease, Lord Gramis. So long as the Senate watches over her... Archadia's well-being will ever be ensured."

Emperor Gramis turned his head away, the very sight of the Senate filled him with contempt. "By your will. I shall bid Vayne's return to Archades."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**Meanwhile in Jahara—Land of the Garif...**

The party had encountered Lord Larsa earlier that day in Jahara and the young lord quickly engaged the lady Ashe in what seemed to be a serious conversation.

"To Bur-Omisace?" Ashe voiced her surprise at the Solidor heir's suggestion.

"I say we ought to leave tomorrow. I was going to wait for my escort, but meeting you presents a great opportunity. This terrible war can be stopped, but I will need your help to do so." Larsa continued, his voice revealing his already apparent eagerness and conviction.

Ashe frowned. "A war?"

"You know the Marquis Ondore leads a group of insurgents—your pardon." Larsa cleared his throat to dispel his sensitive mistake. "He leads a large resistance force against the Empire. Lady Ashe, neither of our countries can afford this now. The Rozarrian Empire would stir. They would aid the resistance and use this aid as a pretext to declare war on Archadia... and Archadia would have no choice but to answer. Lady Ashe, let us go to Bur-Omisace. With the blessing of his grace, the Gran Kiltias Anastasis, you may rightly wear your crown, and declare the restoration of the Kingdom of Dalmasca. As queen, you can call for peace between the Empire and Dalmasca... and stop Marquis Ondore." The young lord looked intently at Ashe, his face wore an expression which seemed inappropriate for one so young.

Ashe shook her head, hands clenched into fists. "For peace? How dare you say that! The Empire attacked us, stole all we hold dear... and you would have me save them from war?" Ashe's anger seethed in her words as her slender frame shook with emotion.

"Dalmasca would be the battlefield! What if Nethicite were used on Rabanastre? You know my brother would do this!" Larsa cheeks flushed with emotion as he beseeched Ashe, but the lady was too angry or too stubborn to listen that she only gave the Solidor heir a sharp look of derision before storming off without another word.

Larsa watched as Ashe's back disappeared into one of the few tents in the village, then he sighed audibly, his shoulders slumping slightly—he had thought the conversation would go smoother than it had. A large hand clapped him on the shoulder and the young lord looked up to a familiar face. "Basch..."

"Give the lady some time, she has gone through so much... I am certain that when she has given it some thought, the lady Ashe will see that you meant well, Lamont." Basch squeezed the small shoulder and smiled at the boy. Larsa felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment that he had to look away from eerily similar cobalt eyes, "M-my name is Larsa... Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, fourth son to the Emperor Gramis of Archadia."

The captain broke out into a hearty laugh, retaining his hold on Larsa's shoulder. "I am well aware my lord, I just wished to hear it from your own lips."

A blush rose to the Solidor's cheeks and he bowed his head to hide it. There was something about the way Basch had spoken the words "my lord" that pulled at his chest—the captain had sounded so much like Gabranth, and yet so unlike him at the same time. Basch had an aura about him that made Larsa uncharacteristically nervous, the sort that made his toes curl in his boots and always made him want to bite his lip and look away. The young lord could not understand it, it was not because he disliked the captain, in fact he had taken quite a liking to him—as to why he was so restless around the man, Larsa did not know.

"I do hope I have not distressed you so with my teasing, Lord Larsa." Basch brushed wayward ebony strands from the Solidor's face which made the boy blush in an even brighter rose. Larsa shook his head nervously, letting his hair cover his face again—to retain whatever shame he had left around the older man. "N-no, of course not. I do appreciate your good humour, very much so actually."

A smile tugged at Basch's lips, it amused him how Larsa could hold his own in a mature conversation yet still be painfully shy around him. "Then perhaps you would not mind engaging me in conversation? It is best to get to know each other better as we will be spending quite a bit of time together—with the others of course." Larsa nodded mutely and let himself be led to the campsite where Vaan had already started piling firewood.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Ashe walked slowly towards the fire where her friends and the Solidor heir were gathered round, the sound of laughter ringing through the night. Larsa saw her first and he immediately excused himself from the group and approached the lady, a serious expression on his boyish face. "Forgive me, I presumed over much. I could think of no other way to avoid bloodshed. If you cannot trust me, then please, take me as your hostage."

Ashe did her best to hide her surprise, the conviction in the young lord's voice convinced her that she was doing the right thing. "I will accompany you to Mt. Bur-Omisace."

"I had hoped you'd say yes. I am glad." Larsa smiled.

"My heart is not set. I still have questions. I hope to find answers along the way."

"I had other reasons to invite you. There's someone I'd like you to meet waiting on Bur-Omisace."

Ashe suddenly looked wary. "Who is that?"

"An enemy, and an ally also. You will just have to wait and see for yourself." Larsa quipped, crossing a bridge and disappearing from sight.

Just then, Vaan walked over to Ashe and placed a hand on his hip. "That Larsa likes his secrets." Ashe broke into a small smile. "He does not mean ill by it." The younger boy shrugged his shoulders as he walked back to the campfire, hollering as he went. "He's not bad. At least for an Imperial."

Back at the campfire, Basch, Balthier and Fran were engaged in a serious discussion about which route was most practical to take going to Mt. Bur-Omisace. "Holy Mt. Bur-Omisace stands at the northern end of the Jagd. Ramooda. Once we're in Jagd, we need not fear pursuit by their airships." The captain looked to the sky pirate for approval, but Balthier shook his head. "Don't get your hopes up. You remember the Leviathan sailed straight over the Jagd Yensa, right up to Raithwall's tomb. Skystone that works even in Jagd. You know Nethicite's behind it. Little wonder they're so keen on the stuff."

The captain looked to Balthier, his expression unreadable—almost. "And what is it you're after, Balthier? You're a welcome hand, and a great aid, but why?"

The sky pirate smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked back squarely at Basch. "Worried I'm out to steal the Nethicite, eh? Can't say I'm unaccustomed to people doubting my intentions. Nothing could be further from my mind. Shall I swear by your sword or some such?"

The captain smiled as he relaxed, leaning against a log. "Apologies. But I needed to know where you stand. Her majesty depends on you and you seemed to have an interest in the stone." Balthier reclined in much the same manner before tossing a blanket at the blonde. "I'm only here to see how the story unfolds. Any self-respecting leading man would do the same." The sky pirate then turned to give Basch a knowing look. "You, my good friend, on the other hand—seem to have taken an interest in the boy."

Basch raised his brows at Balthier and gave a soft chuckle. "He is less than half my age Balthier, and son to the Emperor of Archadia—"

"Indeed. He is a beautiful boy, I would not put it past me to take an interest in that Larsa fellow—but you, I would never have imagined had I not seen it with my own two eyes, _captain_." The sky pirate emphasized his last word by raising his own brows in mock surprise.

Basch shook his head and began to prepare his make-shift bed on the ground. "You, Balthier, are impossible." Balthier stopped as he heard footsteps approaching from the direction of the bridge, then he smiled his devilish smirk at the captain. "100 gil, to prove that what I am saying is indeed, very possible." Basch opened his mouth to protest but Balthier continued, "Do not worry captain, your interest is not at all ignored—and might I say, not at all unrequited."

"Balthier!" Basch hissed under his breath, so as not to alert the approaching members of the party from hearing their conversation. "Come now Basch, Fran said so... and no one knows men better than Fran does—have faith!" The sky pirate finished preparing his own make-shift mattress for the night and he laid on it, pulling his blanket over his shoulders.

"That is not my point! And for the most part, Fran is a Viera!"

Fran's pointed ears twitched slightly at the mention of her name. She looked at Balthier then at Basch, but said nothing before she closed her eyes again, not moving from her leaning position against the log.

"That is exactly my point!" Balthier hissed back as he pulled his blanket higher till it covered half of his face. The voices of their other friends could be heard clearly then. "100 gil captain, tonight I prove my point." The sky pirate slid his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep as the rest of the group finally reached the campfire.

"Vaan, I'm tired—I think I'm going to go make my bed next to Fran, I'm just about ready to fall asleep on my feet!" Penelo called to the others as she dug in her pack for her own blankets, tossing a couple to Vaan. "Lady Ashe, it would be best for you to get some rest too—we have a long journey ahead of us."

"Don't be such a mother Penelo, I'm sure Ashe can take care of herself—she's older than you! And don't mother me either, I'm not a kid anymore!" Vaan whined but accepted the blankets and offered one to Ashe who took it with a smile and a nod to express her gratitude.

"Well if you stopped acting like one, maybe I'd stop treating you like one." Penelo quipped as he finished making her own bed and plopped down unceremoniously on it. "Now go to bed you brat. Goodnight Lady Ashe, rest well."

Vaan grumbled as he made his own bed and Ashe couldn't help a small laugh at the cute display between them. Larsa also laughed softly at the exchange between the two, but when everyone had settled, he felt a sudden twinge of loneliness in his chest. Everyone seemed to be such good friends in this party, and the young lord felt more than a little out of place as he stood there—suddenly awkward and alone.

Larsa pulled his arms around himself as he sat against Fran's log, pulling his knees to his chest to keep warm in the cool night. Because he had insisted in not waiting for his escort, he had gone ahead with Ashe and her party without any supplies of his own—Larsa secretly wished he had gotten at least a blanket. However, the night was unusually cold and the fire alone could not keep him warm. Swallowing his pride, Larsa reached out to shake the one person he was slightly familiar with. "Basch...?"

The captain opened his eyes, he was not really asleep—it was hard to fall asleep after allowing the sky pirate to poison one's mind. Sleepy blue eyes rested on Larsa's crouched form before they widened in slight surprise. "Lord Larsa? Is there something I might aid you with?"

Larsa looked at a non-existent spot on the dirt beneath them as he struggled to find the most appropriate words in such a situation. "Basch, it seems that I may have... forgotten my provisions and I—I'm cold and devoid of any blankets on which I may rest and keep warm... and so I was wondering... if—if perhaps you—we—I could..."

The captain smiled and moved to the side, lifting the blanket to make room for the young lord. "I would be honoured." Larsa felt the same nervousness he had always felt around Basch multiply ten-fold as he pulled off his boots and shyly crawled to the new space offered to him. Larsa curled up and unconsciously pressed himself close to the captain's chest, taking comfort in the sound of the man's steady heartbeat. The cold quickly left the young lord's body and he felt his toes curl as strong arms pulled him closer, enclosing him in comforting warmth. The feeling felt strangely familiar, and for Larsa—it felt like home.

"Are you certain that it is alright for you to travel without your cortege?" Basch tried to ease the boy's apparent tension by talking to him. Larsa looked up at him shyly, "They have grown used to my running off, though I am not certain if they will take it lightly this time. And I am in good hands am I not? Vaan said so himself back in the Lhusu Mines." The captain let out a small laugh. "Indeed you are my lord. Now sleep, you will need your rest for our journey tomorrow." Larsa nodded and easily slipped into a peaceful slumber.

Basch carefully drew the boy closer to him, rationalizing that they could conserve body heat better in that manner, and he settled back down on his make-shift bed. As he pulled up the blanket over his shoulder, he caught Balthier's eyes with his own. The sky pirate's lips moved without a sound as if mouthing something. Basch squinted in the dim light of the fire to make out what Balthier was trying to say.

"_One-hundred-gil-in-the-morning-captain." _

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"The Senate may play at intrigue, but Lord Vayne will not be brought down easily, the entire military waits upon his orders, from the war council to the rank and file. What better blade than he to strike down the enemies of the Empire?" Judge Zargabaath mused, ignoring Judge Drace's visible agitation.

Drace shook her head in earnest, "Your honor reminds me of Zecht two years since. He, too, put his trust in Lord Vayne's strength, and what became of him? Gone without a trace since Nabudis!"

"I will not hear you malign Judge Zecht! He was a noble warrior! Or... do you think his trust in Lord Vayne ill-placed?" Zargabaath's voice lowered to nothing more than a whisper, but Drace heard it all too well.

"Vayne took two of his own brothers' lives. He is ruthless beyond contempt."

"Ruthless, you say? Would he were more so! He gives traitors no quarter, be they of his own blood! How fitting for one who would bear the burden of the Empire!"

Drace rested her head on her open palm, shoulders slumping to show her despair. "But could we bear him? Zargabaath, what of you? Surely you do not believe... his brothers were traitors."

Zargabaath paced the room, avoiding meeting the female judge's eyes. "So found his Excellency, Lord Gramis. You would do well to mind your tongue, Drace. That matter is long past."

Before Drace could reply, another Judge Magister entered the room abruptly. "Your honors, a summons! Lord Vayne has arrived at the palace." Gabranth nodded to both Zargabaath and Drace.

"We come at once." Zargabaath's reply was clipped as he wore his helm and briskly walked out of the room. Drace gave Gabranth a meaningful look as she tucked her helmet under an arm, a sign that she wished to talk with him. The two Judge Magisters followed Zargabaath in a much slower pace.

"Lord Larsa has left for Bur-Omisace. He hopes to enlist the aid of the Gran Kiltias in stopping the insurgents. I doubt this will be enough to deter Ondore... but even a slight hindrance to his operations would be welcome. This will delay the Rozarrian invasion... and we will have bought much-needed time to shore up our defenses."

Gabranth nodded thoughtfully. "Just as his Excellency had hoped."

"No matter the result, I am pleased with the young lord's progress. I can already see the stunned faces of those mid-witted Senators. The fools think a child Emperor's strings easy to pull from the shadows... but they will find that Lord Larsa is no puppet."

"Yes. The Senators would be most pleased with a puppet for an emperor. Recall, Drace, how the Senate fears and despises Lord Vayne's ability? When they realize the truth, that Lord Larsa is no docile lamb to be shepherded... they will bare their teeth and devour him." Gabranth steeled his voice, preventing the anger he felt from seeping into his words.

Judge Drace wore her helm as they approached the Emperor's receiving chambers. "You're right. I shall speak on this matter with his Excellency at once. Gabranth, it falls to us to protect Lord Larsa—are we agreed?"

"Aye."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"This crisis would not end were I gone. The Senate hates the very fact that House Solidor exists. By necessity, we must find reason to silence them." Vayne paced the room as he spoke to his father, his tone low but firm.

The Emperor raised his eyes to meet his son's own, "Necessity? Ah yes, necessity. Does that word free you, I wonder? You show no hesitation to solve matters with blood."

"The sword of House Solidor cannot be left to rust in doubt. It was you, Excellency, who tempered that sword."

Emperor Gramis shook his head, too long has he not seen what lies in his older son's heart. "Is this your idea of vengeance?"

"It is my idea of necessity. If we do not act now, it is not only our future you imperil." Vayne stated matter of factly as he tapped his chin with a delicately gloved finger, eyes not leaving that of his father.

"So you would dirty your hands, to keep his clean?"

Vayne waved his hand dismissively. "My hands are stained with blood. I see little reason to stay them now."

A long sigh escaped the Emperor's lips as he sagged slightly on his throne. "So they are. And so House Solidor lives on."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

I seem to be quite inspired lately, hence, another update. :)

More game story plot this time—and another possible conflict. Naughty naughty Basch. :p

School is starting, but I have decided to make a weekly update on this—a personal goal if you will.

Again, comments, reviews, and/or suggestions are welcome... if ever anyone is still reading this anyway. :x

Lastly, to Cela, I love you for your continuing support—it means a lot. :D

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Seph


	9. Chapter 9

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes:** Chapter 9 occurs after the party has reached Mt. Bur-Omisace to talk to the Gran Kiltias.

**Author's Notes: **The focus is more on the storyline in this chapter, and be warned, this chapter is loaded with ANGST.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Panic spread like poison in the Senate hall as the now lifeless body of Emperor Gramis sagged unceremoniously on his seat in the council.

"What possible cause could we have to lay hand on our Emperor?" A senate member screeched loudly as he stumbled backward, trying to move away from Vayne who looked at the Senate with utmost contempt. Another member clutched at his robes as he tried to stand his ground against the older Solidor heir. "A deception and an outrage! The Senate will not stand for this!"

Judge Drace stepped between Vayne Solidor and the other cowering members of the Senate, but she looked at them with similar derision. "A viper amongst our Senators?"

"With Chairman Gregoroth as its head. He confessed and passed his own sentence." Vayne announced, his low voice sounded calm over the alarmed murmurs of the remaining members of the Senate.

Judge Bergan drew his sword and loomed menacingly at the frightened group, "A viper with many tails. Much of the Senate is culpable."

Vayne nodded in agreement. "We had to strip the Senate of authority and assign powers of autocracy to myself until such time as order—"

"Spare me your lies! I see the serpent coiled here before me!" Drace interrupted the Solidor mid-sentence, her eyes meeting the latter's hardened stare.

Judge Zargabaath reached out to restrain the female judge, urgency present in his voice. "Drace, you speak too freely!"

"Zargabaath! Do not tell me you join in the mummer's farce!"

"With Rozarria poised to invade at any moment, our leader must have a free hand." Zargabaath fought to keep his voice levelled and his mind, rational—he could not let his emotions hinder his better judgment, and he hoped for her own sake, Drace would realize this sooner.

Vayne, seemingly unfazed by the female Judge's accusation continued as he walked slowly towards his father's corpse. "The once-great House Solidor is now reduced to myself and my dear brother Larsa."

"Surely you would not go so far!" Drace drew her sword from her scabbard and pointed it at the older Solidor heir. "Vayne Solidor! As Judge Magister and upholder of the law, I hereby place you under arrest!"

Judge Bergan poised his weapon against the female Magister's back. "You misunderstood. Lord Vayne did not make himself autocrat. It was the very ministry of the law which you serve. Do you see it now, Drace? When you bared your sword at his Excellency, you bared your sword at the law."

Unfazed, Drace hissed bitterly. "You wear your mummer's motley well, _Bergan._"

Drace quickly turned to strike the other Judge with her sword, but Bergan easily stopped her. The male Judge held Drace tightly by the face and with little strength, held her off the ground with one arm before throwing her violently on the cold ground.

"Such strength—inhuman!" Drace whimpered as she clutched her side, unable to lift herself from the floor.

"Zargabaath, take the Alexander. Accompany Bergan and bring Larsa back to me." Vayne commanded coldly.

"Your Excellency, Lord Larsa was placed under _my charge_." Finally, Judge Gabranth stepped up to speak, his hands balled into fists to contain his resentment at the current situation. He would not leave his ward in the care of Bergan, who was no more than a beast on two legs, nor in that of Zargabaath, whose loyalty to the Empire was too pious.

Vayne raised his brows in mock surprise as he laid gloved fingers to his lips. "Oh? Perhaps you mistook your orders then. I see no other explanation for why you were reporting on my doings to my late father." The Solidor's tone was laced with sarcasm and it stung the Magister like poison.

Gabranth's mouth ran dry at the accusation. "Your Excellency—"

"A hound, begging for scraps at the Emperor's table." Vayne continued sardonically, looking at the fallen Judge Magister in condescension. "_Would you serve another master, hound?_ You may fulfil your duty as Judge Magister before us all. She has been tried and found guilty."

Gabranth turned his eyes to where Drace lay, her breathing ragged.

"Your Majesty, I beg you reconsider!" Zargabaath pleaded, his voice strained.

Gabranth wordlessly walked towards Drace, knelt down beside her and rested his helm on the ground. He ran gauntleted fingers over the hilt of his sword before he gripped it almost painfully and placed it on the female Judge's neck. A look of deep consternation crossed the blonde's usually stoic face and Bergan felt a smirk tug at the corner of his lips.

Drace reached up a hand to Gabranth's own and shook her head. "Do it. I care not. Live, Gabranth. Protect the young lord. Protect Larsa..."

The blonde bowed his head as if in defeat and whispered almost inaudibly, "Forgive me."

Drace tightened her hold on Gabranth's hand. "Pray be quick."

With eyes shut tightly, Gabranth took her life, feeling her flesh yield to the cold metal of the sword he drove into her body. His hold on the hilt tightened all the more that his knuckles blanched at the effort, releasing it only when he felt Drace's body sag limply in his arms. It was done.

Vayne took his father's hand and placed it on the Emperor's dead body. "And so House Solidor lives on."

He walked slowly towards the double doors which led outside the council chamber, but stopped abruptly beside Gabranth who stood motionlessly, head bowed low as if in prayer. The Solidor leaned close, lips almost grazing the Judge's ear as he whispered in the same poisonous tone, "_Would_ _you dare touch him now, Magister, with hands so stained with blood?_"

Gabranth lifted his head, cobalt eyes wide with both surprise and fear, but he said nothing. The Judge swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as Vayne continued to hiss into his ear. "You have defiled him enough with your impropriety, hound. Leave him be—stain him no further with your sins. There is a price to pay to save what little honor you have left, _Noah_."

The Judge Magister felt his knees buckle beneath him at the mention of _that_ name. _His name_. He had long buried that name because he had no honor left to deserve the name given to him by his father—he was too far gone in the darkness. Gabranth bit his lip as he bowed his head low, shame almost consuming him—and again, he said nothing.

Content at the damage he had already caused, Vayne allowed himself a small, cruel smile before he continued out the double doors which Judge Bergan and Zargabaath had opened for him. The doors closed behind them with a loud thud, leaving Gabranth alone with the bodies of Emperor Gramis and Judge Drace—the two persons who had entrusted Lord Larsa to him. Anger and frustration welled up in the Judge's chest, and for the first time in so long, he let the tears fall—hot tears rolled down his cheeks, the only sign of the emotional maelstrom that raged within him.

"Forgive me my Emperor, Drace... I do not think I am fit... I am not worthy... _I can no longer protect him. _ My hands are stained with the blood of the innocent—I am too far gone into this darkness. I cannot... _I cannot do this._" Gabranth whispered, his fingers lost their grip on the hilt of his sword and it fell to the floor. The sound of cold metal crashing on the marble floor echoed in the council chamber which was now as silent as death.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"In Archadia, Larsa. In Rozarria, Al-Cid. They dream not of war. Should Empire join with Empire, they will open for a new Ivalice in our time." The Gran Kiltias proclaimed in his solemn tone.

"Hah, Gran Kiltias! You speak much of dreams, but in the real world, war is upon us." Al-Cid cocked his head to one side, a hand on his chin.

Ashe beseeched the Gran Kiltias, her voice wavering and her tone, urgent. "I was told my coming here would prevent this war. I was to assume my father's throne and announce the restoration of Dalmasca... treat with the Empire for peace, and persuade the resistance to stay their hand. I have not come all this way to be asked to reconsider!"

Al-Cid shifted his attention to Ashe, though his expression barely changed. "A word from you and the resistance would stop cold.. and Rozarria's pretext for joining the war... scattered, off to the four winds. This was what we had hoped. Alas, circumstances changed. A full two years have passed since your reported death. Were it become known you were still alive... I fear it could only worsen our current situation.

"Because I am powerless to help." Ashe finished what she thought was Al-Cid's unspoken statement.

The Rozarrian shook his head. "Ahh! Nay, in fact, it has little to do with you.

Larsa, who had been listening, decided to speak. "Then what? If the Lady Ashe were to extend her hand in friendship... perhaps I could then persuade the Emperor. His Excellency will solve things peacefully—"

"The Emperor Gramis is no more! His life was taken." Al-Cid interjected, cutting the young Solidor.

"Father!" Larsa's eyes went wide and his throat ran dry. He raised a hand to his chest which felt so tight he could scarcely breathe. The young lord's knees threatened to buckle beneath him and he allowed himself to be pulled in a strong embrace.

No other words were spoken between Basch and Larsa as the older man led him away, the rest of the party bowed their heads in sorrow for what had happened. No one had the right words to say, and at that moment, there were no words for the grief that struck Larsa's heart.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Airships littered the sky, flying swiftly toward Bur-Omisace. Fran stopped and squinted before she pointed in the direction of the temple of the Gran Kiltias. "There."

Vaan stopped abruptly and looked up. "Smoke?"

"What could it mean?" Ashe asked more to herself as she rushed to the temple, the party behind her.

The group came to an abrupt halt at the doors of the temple that had been brutally forced open. Thick smoke permeated the air, and the party squinted their eyes as they made their way inside. It was apparent that the temple had been attacked while they were at the Stilshrine of Miriam to retrieve the Sword of Kings.

"What in Ivalice—" Vaan started but Ashe blocked him suddenly with an extended arm, stopping him from walking further inside the temple. The boy looked up to protest, but he suddenly stiffened at the sight of a Judge Magister standing in the middle of the temple.

"Ah, our vagrant princess. Swift has your lust for revenge led you to the Sword of Kings." Judge Bergan's low tenor reverberated through his metal helm, sending shivers up the lady's spine. The Judge moved slightly to one side to reveal the body of the Gran Kiltias sprawled on the floor—seemingly dead. "You will surrender it to me. Too late, and to their sorrow do those who misplace their trust in gods learn their fate." Judge Bergan pulled out his sword, a grisly crooked piece of metal, as he approached the party—a strange energy emanating from his body.

"Fran, I don't like the look of that." Balthier hissed as he took a step back from the approaching Judge Magister.

"This mist—he holds a stone! It controls him as it did Mjrn!" Fran gasped.

"No. No, the power of manufacted Nethicite is the power of man! A weapon forged by his wisdom... and who would challenge the gods themselves! A fitting blood for a true Dynast-King. Raithwall did but pretend the title... a cur begging Nethicite scraps from his master's table. Hark! Ivalice hails her true Dynast-King, Vayne Solidor! He shall defy the will of the gods, and see the veins of history back in the hands of man! His time is nigh! The new Ivalice holds no place for the name of Dalmasca. The stain of Raithwall's blood... shall be washed clean from history's weave!"

Bergan pulled out another sword and the party engaged him in battle. The battle was long and hard, the Judge Magister bolstered by inhuman strength—but in the end, he was defeated. The Judge Magister clutched his head and began to twist and turn his body as if in great pain. He then went into a mad rampage, swinging his arms about in abandon until he collapsed on the floor, a ghostly figure leaving his body as a mysterious light shot out of it—and it was done. The Judge Magister Bergan was no more.

Balthier approached the body and examined it. "He set his very bones about with manufacted Nethicite." He frowned before turning to Penelo. "The Gran Kiltias?"

Penelo shook her head as she held back her tears. "Wait—What about Larsa?" The girl was suddenly concerned at what happened to the young lord as they had left him to grieve for the loss of his father, the late Emperor Gramis.

"Gone. Spirited away by Judge Gabranth." Al-Cid replied.

Basch frowned deeply. "So he was here."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Larsa's vision was blurred with tears as he ran inside the castle, not bothering to be escorted by his Judge Protector. All he could hear was the sound of his frantically-beating heart and the sound of his own footsteps as he rushed towards his brother's study. The young lord pulled at one of the double doors almost frantically before it was pushed open from the inside.

Vayne Solidor stepped back to let his brother inside before closing the door behind him with a dull thud. "Larsa, I am most relieved that you have come home to me safely."

"Where is father?" Larsa choked as tears continued to fall on his already tear-stained cheeks.

Vayne pulled his little brother into a powerful embrace and the younger Solidor collapsed into it—crying like the child that he truly was. At that moment he was not Lord Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, heir to the Emperor of Archadia—at that moment, he was just Larsa, a boy who had lost his father. The young lord clutched at his brother's robes and sobbed into his shoulder, the force of his sobs wracking through his small frame.

"I am here with you Larsa. All we have left is each other." Vayne whispered as he ran his hand over Larsa's back, trying to give whatever comfort he could give. He cupped the boy's face in his large hands and looked his younger brother in the eye. "I will protect you my beloved brother, as you are the only one I have left in this world—as I am to you."

Larsa only tightened his hold on his older brother, suddenly feeling the fear of being left utterly alone. He nodded before he again buried his face in Vayne's chest—finding solace in the warmth of the only remaining family he had.

"I... I wish to see father—one last time." Larsa's voice cracked as he spoke.

"I have much to attend to, but I shall ask that Zargabaath accompany you." Vayne replied as he stood up and smoothed his younger brother's hair.

"No, I do not wish for Zargabaath to accompany me." Larsa turned his head and frowned, suddenly disconcerted at the fact that neither of his Judge Protectors had bothered to see him in. "I wish to be with Drace... or Gabranth..."

Vayne turned his back at his brother as he walked slowly towards his desk. "Larsa... Drace is—no more."

Larsa's head shot up at his brother's words... surely he did not mean—"No... more...?"

"She raised her sword against the law—and she was tried—"

"Brother, surely you do not mean—No! Brother, tell me it is not so!" Larsa ran up to his brother and clutched a larger gloved hand with his own. "Brother... please... tell me that it is not so!"

Vayne only closed his fingers around Larsa's small hand as he avoided the piercing cobalt gaze directed at him. "She was tried and found guilty—and the punishment... has been carried out."

Larsa clutched at his chest, the pain was suddenly overwhelming. His chest felt like it contained a gaping void and he found it increasingly harder to breath. The tears came again and Larsa cried, tears soaking a gloved hand as he tried his best to dry them. "Why brother? She... She did not have to die! Drace did not have to die..."

"_It is the law_ Larsa, you know this. Drace was a Judge Magister, an enforcer of the law—but she raised her sword against it. What she has done decided her fate. Drace is no more." Vayne's voice was eerily calm as he spoke.

"F-forgive me brother, but my emotions... my heart... it hurts—it is as if someone has pulled it out of my chest and I cannot make the ache go away! I am too pained... I cannot—I cannot see clearly—" The young lord tried to collect himself, but a maelstrom raged inside of him and he could not bring himself to think clearly. He wanted—no, needed to find his Judge Protector... he needed to be with him. "I wish—I wish to see Gabranth... I will... go to him now brother."

Larsa walked slowly away from Vayne, who had since seated himself and had his hands steepled on his table. The young lord laid a hand on one of the double doors to push it open, but Vayne's words stopped him.

"Will you go to _him,_ brother? Will you go to the man who carried out Drace's sentence? _Will you seek comfort from her executioner?_"

The young lord's hands balled into fists. "Gabranth would do no such thing brother! I know it in my heart!" Larsa opened the door and ran out of the study.

Running. Again, he was running. Away from the pain, away from the fear, away from the loneliness that had begun to creep in his heart—there was only one person—one person who could comfort him now.

Larsa stopped at an all-too-familiar door and he closed his fingers around the knob, suddenly hesitating. A chill ran up his spine and it made his chest ache all the more. _Why am I hesitating?_ Soft footsteps reached his ears and he looked up to find that Vayne had followed him there.

"Enough, Larsa! Enough of this folly!" Vayne's tone was strained as he tried to keep his frustration at bay. "This has gone far enough. Go to your chambers and we will speak no more of this!"

Larsa shook his head angrily, releasing his hold on the knob—anger suddenly welling up in his chest. "This is no folly brother! I do not understand what it is—but I know that it is not folly!"

The older Solidor clicked his tongue in dismay as he reached out and held Larsa's upper arm tightly with one hand. "You shall go to your chambers Larsa, and there will be no more of this nonsense! You are an heir to House Solidor, a future heir to the Archadian Empire!"

The young lord struggled against the iron-tight grip to no avail, but he stood his ground and refused to leave. "I wish to speak to Gabranth—I wish to be with him!"

Without warning, Vayne backhanded his brother, the sound of his gloved hand against the smaller boy's cheek made a sickening sound which echoed down the empty hallway.

Larsa's head snapped back at the impact, the shock of the blow numbing the pain that accompanied it. He raised a small hand to his burning cheek, cobalt eyes wide in shock.

"You shall be the future Emperor of Archadia! Did you not think of this when you let _him_ touch you? Tell me, Larsa, are you so willing to be held by hands so stained with blood?" The anger in Vayne's voice was almost palpable as he bit out the words through his teeth. He had thought that it was a fleeting affair, a curious venture—it was not supposed to come to this.

"I know enough of my duties brother! My whole life has been one of duty! I know the bonds of my position—and his! And I have decided... I have decided against it all!" Larsa shouted angrily, tears spilling from already-swollen cobalt eyes.

Vayne turned away, his own hands balled into fists. It was taking all of his will-power to stay his temper—he could not believe that his own brother would risk everything, give up everything... "You are telling me, dear brother, that you are willing to give up everything—_for a hound?_" He clicked his tongue. "A hound who killed his own king, his own people—"

"Enough brother! I will hear no more!"

"Drace died by his hand Larsa, that is the truth!" Vayne spit out his words like venom.

"And he has protected me by his hand!"

"Do not make this mistake Larsa." Vayne breathed deeply, trying to calm himself—his back now turned from his younger brother.

"I love him!" Larsa clutched at his chest, the sudden realization hitting him harder than his brother's hand. "_Is love my mistake?_"

Vayne closed his eyes. He had feared this would happen. It could not be. I cannot be done. He turned stiffly and met Larsa's large blue eyes with his own hard stare. "Yes, Larsa, and it shall be a most painful mistake." The older Solidor padded almost soundlessly to where his brother stood and held the boy's chin tightly in his gloved hand.

"There is a price for honor, brother—and know that Gabranth has decided to pay his dues."

Without another word, Vayne walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the pervading darkness of the corridor.

Larsa watched his brother's back as it disappeared at the junction before he turned back to Gabranth's door. He suddenly felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment at the realization that the Judge might very well have heard their verbal exchange. Pushing the thought from his mind, he raised a hand and knocked on the hard wooden door.

There was no answer.

Perturbed, Larsa knocked again, this time pressing his ear to the door. "Gabranth? It is I, I wish to speak with you."

The distinct sound of shuffling could be heard inside, and Larsa felt a weight press against the door. Surely Gabranth was in his chambers... but why won't he open his door—not even for him? An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of the young lord's stomach and he bit his lip in apprehension. "Gabranth please... I wish to speak with you... please, let me in."

Again, there was nothing.

Fear crept into Larsa's heart and his chest tightened—it hurt, he did not understand why, but it hurt terribly. Tears began to fall again and he pressed his now wet cheek on the cold, unyielding wood. He cried and pleaded with his Judge Protector. "Gabranth do not do this... tell me it isn't so—tell me that it was not your hand that killed Drace! Do not run from me... I love you. Gabranth, I love you."

The silence that followed his whispered pleas was cruel, and Larsa felt as though his heart had been crushed too many times over. He had lost his father, Drace, and now it seemed that he had lost Gabranth as well. The young lord hesitantly moved away from Gabranth's door and walked unsteadily further down the hallway, stopping at a particular door. He did not know why, but he felt a compelling feeling inside him that drew him to this one room. And so, Larsa reached out and pushed the heavy door open—eyes widening as he realized to whom the room belonged.

"Drace." Larsa whispered the name with reverence as he closed the door behind him, his eyes running over the chambers which spoke volumes of the life Drace had hidden beneath her Judge Magister armour.

The walls were lined with books upon books on different topics and the windows were draped with pastel-coloured curtains. There was her armour stand and a table with a picture frame on it. Larsa walked over to the desk and picked it up, it was a picture of Drace in normal dress—smiling... and with her was a young boy with a toothless smile. Larsa felt the corners of his mouth tug upward as he ran his thumb over the glass, he had never seen Drace truly smile... not like this—and it was amusing to see her without her armour. She had been very beautiful and happy when she was younger, the Solidor mused. And she had been a mother... he had not known.

Larsa sat on the simple bed which sat in a corner of the room and he buried his face in the light rose coverlet—the scent reminded him of a memory long forgotten—and it was comforting. The young lord curled himself into a ball and eventually cried himself to sleep.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

In the silence and darkness of the night, a tall figure hovered over the slumbering Solidor heir. Ghost-light fingers trailed over closed eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and partially parted lips.

A deep breath.

A melancholy sigh.

Hot tears.

A kiss.

"And I love you."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

This week's update! :D I've decided to update every Friday after class, as writing does wonders to lower my stress.

Well, this turned out very angsty—but all that angst building up just had to go somewhere. I also decided it was time to put in some major conflict in the story, thus, I came up with this chapter! :x

I have nothing much to say but THANK YOU to those who are still reading this. Drop me a line if you will, I'd like that. :)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Seph


	10. Chapter 10

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 10 begins a few weeks after the events of the previous chapter. By now, the main party has gone from the Phon Coast, through the Tchita Uplands, up Old Archades, and are finally in The Imperial City of Archades.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Vaan ran forth excitedly, ahead of the others, once they entered the Imperial City of Archades. The sights and sounds of the busy city were all new and all too stimulating for the aspiring sky-pirate.

"You're gaping like a fish out of water!" Penelo laughed, but she seemed to share the same enthusiasm, though not as much.

Vaan cocked his head to one side, fingers laced behind his blonde hair. "I'm just checking out the city. Even if it is _the Empire._"

Penelo walked over to where Vaan was standing and let a small smile rest on her lips. "You've changed, Vaan. You were always marching to your own beat... almost like you were impatient, even. In a good way."

"Maybe it's because I've seen more now. Never imagined I'd ever come this far away from home."

There was a moment of silence between them, both teenagers taking in the marvel of the Imperial City—both curious and perhaps, a little apprehensive. Ashe seemed to be restless, Basch moreso, Fran was non-chalant, and Balthier looked as if he was sick to his stomach with the way he shifted edgily with what looked like a scowl on his usually smirking lips.

Vaan was the first to ease the growing tension within the group. "Hey, Larsa's here in the city, isn't he? He's a tough one, I wonder how he's doing."

Balthier abruptly stopped in his shifting, stiffening slightly, but was quick to regain his composure.

"You were always a touch soft, Vaan." Penelo said affectionately. "You know what's amazing? I always thought I'd go my whole life without meeting people like the Princess, or Lord Larsa. And here we are, in the Capital!"

Vaan scratched the back of his head. "I know! It's a little over my head sometimes."

Basch snaked from behind Vaan before patting the smaller boy on the shoulder. "Good, Vaan. You've come to understand the difficulties of serving royalty."

Penelo gave the Captain a mischievous look. "That wasn't a complaint, was it, Basch?"

Basch straightened his back and cleared his throat, looking away from the girl's impish look. "Right. Let's get moving."

"Hey, don't change the subject!"

"Right." Basch crossed his arms against his chest as he looked at Ashe, together with Balthier and Fran, who were a little behind them. The said group only looked at Basch and the two teenagers silently, pleasant smiles on their faces.

Vaan and the others began to proceed a little further into the Capital City before Balthier abruptly stopped in his tracks. "We go our separate ways here, Vaan. I've some business to attend to. We'll meet again later."

Vaan looked up in surprise. "Huh? Hey—"

But the sky-pirate was quick in his step, and he ignored Vaan as he disappeared into the Archadian crowd—almost as if he belonged there. The blonde boy looked up to Fran who only shook her head and gave her version of a smile. "He will be back. Do not worry."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"Tell me, Zargabaath, to whom do I owe the pleasure of a Judge Magister's request for an audience with a mere sky-pirate such as myself?" Balthier's voice was laced with sarcasm as he leaned his hip on the wooden wall by the far side of the rented room of one of Archades' more elusive inns. He crossed his arms to his chest as he narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the armoured Magister who stood at the far side of the small room.

"I have come to ask... for your aid Ffamran Mied Bunansa." The Judge's voice sounded tense, even through the steel of his helm and Balthier could not help but raise an eyebrow at this—as well as the free use of the name he had left behind.

"My... aid? And what has led you to believe that I would be so willing to aid a Judge Magister—as you represent everything that I detest, everything that I have left behind?" Balthier bit out the words as he flexed his ringed fingers instinctively—a habit that belied his agitation. "And, know well that Ffamran Mied Bunansa has long died. My name is Balthier."

"You cannot deny who you were Ffamran. Who you were... and who you still are." Zargabaath walked over to where the sky-pirate was standing, the grating of his armour almost unbearable to the former Judge.

"I am not like you Zargabaath! I am not a hound of the Empire! If there is nothing you wish to discuss, I will take my leave. I have almost forgotten my distaste at seeing a Magister, I must thank you—bitterly—for reminding me."

Balthier turned to leave, but Zargabaath stopped him with a gloved hand around the sky-pirate's wrist. "Forgive me Ff—Balthier, I have spoken beyond bounds. I asked for us to meet, not to rub salt on wounds long inflicted, but to ask for aid—as I have found in my hands... a most _delicate_ situation."

Balthier raised a hand to his chin, it was unlike Zargabaath to ask for aid—least of all from a sky-pirate, former Judge though he was. The vagueness of his words did nothing to mask the gravity of whatever it was that distressed the Magister. "Speak Zargabaath, and I shall listen."

With a deep sigh of relief, the Judge released his hold on the other's wrist before he seated himself in one of the room's wooden chairs. Zargabaath then removed his helm and rested it on the table, the heat in the room almost stifling him. He cleared his throat before he finally spoke. "Lord Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, brother to Vayne and heir to the throne of Archades, has been placed under my charge. Weeks have passed since the late Emperor Gramis' demise, and it seems... that the young lord has not come to terms with his Excellency's passing."

Balthier nodded, suddenly concerned, as he also seated himself by the table. He bid the older man to continue. "He has been unlike himself—remiss in his studies, negligent of his duties... it is as if the melancholy has gripped him and has succeeded in subduing his spirit. The Lord Larsa I now protect is nothing of his former self—and it grieves me to see him as he is now."

"I do not understand how any of this concerns me... though I am deeply troubled, as I have taken a liking to the boy." Balthier rested his chin on an open palm, waiting for the Judge to go on.

"I believe that it is in the young lord's best interest that he should leave the palace—at least for a while. The death of his father, as well as— _certain subsequent events_—have taken its toll on Lord Larsa. Aged as he may seem in mind, he is but a mere child. As his guardian, I beseech you to take him under your wing!"

Brown eyes went wide in surprise and alarm. "Surely you do not intend to put the Solidor child in my care!" Balthier shook his head, almost in disbelief at what Zargabaath had asked of him. "You may have forgotten, Zargabaath, that I am a sky-pirate. I am no governess, it is beyond my capabilities to act as guardian to _your _future Emperor."

"I can entrust him with no other. You left the Ministry when you had the opportunity and have kept your honor, though others may see it differently. But I trust you, by whatever name or occupation you might assume. I have been with you in battle and I have deep respect and belief in your capabilities."

Balthier laughed dryly. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Zargabaath."

"Decide with haste Balthier, we have not much time." The older man hissed under his breath.

"I do not believe you are in the position to rush—"

A sharp knock on the door interrupted their hushed conversation, and their heads turned sharply in its direction, almost simultaneously. Without another word, Zargabaath rose stiffly and made to open the door.

"Zargabaath, I see no reason for you to leave me in a room by myself—if you are attending to your duties, I have every right to—"

The young lord's voice died in his throat when his eyes fell on the equally dumb-founded sky-pirate who was seated by the table. Cobalt eyes went impossibly wide as he beseeched the Judge Magister with his silent, wide-eyed stare.

Balthier pushed himself off the chair and ran ringed fingers in his clipped, dark blonde hair. "It seems that my decision has been made for me." The sky-pirate gave Zargabaath a pointed look before his gaze softened when he turned to look at the young boy. "I shall take him as you wish, but my services are never for free."

"You shall not be pursued by the Imperials as long as I can hold them, but beyond that, I cannot say. Now go! There is not much time Bunansa!" Zargabaath's whispered harshly, urgency seeping into his words.

"B-bunansa? Surely you do not mean Dr. Cid's—"

Balthier quickly grabbed Larsa by the wrist and pulled the boy a little too hard towards him that the Solidor heir almost fell forward. "We shall speak later. For now, we take our leave. Zargabaath—I hold you to your word."

"Zargabaath! What is happening-?" Larsa tried to free himself from Balthier's grasp, but the strength by which the sky-pirate held his wrist was surprisingly firm. "Are you to leave me as well—_as he did_?" Tears began to well up in already sunken cobalt eyes, but the Judge Magister looked away—he could no longer bear to see his young lord like he was.

"Forgive me, my lord, but it is in my best judgment that this be done." Zargabaath proceeded to wear his helm before handing Balthier a rather hefty bag of Archadian gold. He bowed low to the Solidor heir. "Please, do not think ill of me Lord Larsa."

Zargabaath then turned to Balthier, who still held the young lord firmly. "Protect him best you can. Now be off with great haste Ffamran!"

Balthier clicked his tongue as he made his way to the door, gun on his shoulder and the Solidor heir in tow. "Your stubbornness belies your age Zargabaath. It's _Balthier._ Do not forget it next we meet. Farewell."

Zargabaath watched in silence as the sky-pirate whisked the young lord out of sight, almost bonelessly collapsing on a wooden chair that creaked beneath the weight of his armour.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"I have asked the inn-keeper to bring up your meals. I have also instructed him to cater to whatever else you may need." Basch cupped Larsa's face in his large hands. "However, you may not leave this inn or do anything which might bring attention to you. Lord Larsa, you must understand our situation."

Larsa nodded his head and looked back at Basch's intense gaze. "I understand G—Basch. Do not worry, I shall be alright." He raised a small hand to touch a much larger one which rested upon his cheek. "Now hurry, the others are already waiting for you."

No sooner had the boy said it before Balthier unceremoniously burst into the room with a curious Vaan right behind him. The sky-pirate raised an eyebrow at the Captain, but merely smirked. "Well if you don't mind, Captain, if you're done pampering our young Emperor-ling, it's best that we be off at once."

"Yeah, let's go old man! You're taking too long!" Vaan jested as he leaned on his intertwined fingers behind his head. He turned to Larsa and gave the young Solidor a wide smile. "Sorry you couldn't join in the adventure; the grown-ups said it would be too dangerous for you. But hey, don't worry Larsa, I'll tell you all about it when we get back! I bet it's going to be great! So sit tight here, alright?"

Larsa laughed, he had always been fond of Vaan's lively spirit. "I am looking forward to hearing everything of your adventure Vaan. Send my well-wishes to the rest, I pray for your safe return."

"We shall see you soon Emperor-ling, best you behave yourself till we get back." Balthier ruffled the boy's black hair affectionately before seeing Vaan and Basch to the door. The older man cast another look at Larsa before nodding slightly. "We take our leave Lord Larsa."

When the door finally closed and the sound of footsteps died down, Larsa made his way to his room and threw himself on the bed. Everything had gone quite well since Zargabaath had "handed him over" to the sky-pirate, and the rest of the party was more than glad to take him in—much to his delight. He was very fond of Vaan and his friends, and Basch had been more than obliging during the past few days. The inn they had chosen to stay in was one of the more expensive ones in the city, all thanks to the gold that Zargabaath had given Balthier—enough to feed a family for years—so the pirate said. The accommodations made everyone quite happy. It was as if everything was almost alright. _Almost_.

The weeks that followed the demise of his father, Emperor Gramis, had taken its toll on him. Weeks of crying till there were almost no more tears to shed left Larsa with a perpetually gaunt face with swollen eyes. His hair was dishevelled, going whichever what way if Basch had not taken the liberty of brushing it a few times when they had the chance to be alone. The weight in his chest seemed somewhat lighter as of late, but every time he thought about _him_, it was as if nothing would ever go right anymore.

Larsa pursed his lips which had already begun to quiver, but no tears came—there were no more tears to shed. However, the dull ache in his chest intensified and Larsa pulled his knees to his chest to somehow ease the pain. Weeks passed with excruciating slowness. Weeks of cold stares, empty silence, and being deadpanned with a mechanical "Yes, my lord" every time he tried to speak to his _then_ Judge Protector made Larsa feel empty and abandoned.

"Was it all just a lie then? Was Vayne right all this time? Is love... is love, truly my mistake?"

Larsa rolled restlessly on his bed and heaved a deep sigh. He felt as if he wanted to cry, but he was too tired of doing that. Too many nights of wasted tears and whispered prayers have gone unanswered, perhaps it was time to finally let go. It was as if Gabranth had already made his choice, and now, so must he.

With that thought in mind, Larsa drifted off to sleep.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

The sound of rain pattering against the glass woke Larsa from his light slumber. The boy rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he walked over to the window. For a moment he just stood there, watching the rain... he had always liked the rain, but only because Gabranth was there to countenance his traipsing out in the palace gardens when it did. Now it only reminded him of the deep sorrow he felt.

Acting on impulse, Larsa left the room and all but ran down the stairs, only to be stopped by the inn-keeper herself, a stern, heavy-set woman. "No, no, no dearie. Master Basch and Master Balthier made it abundantly clear that you cannot leave the inn. No sir, I simply cannot let you pass."

"I only wish to go to your garden. If you wish, you may watch me—as I do not plan on going elsewhere milady."

A thoughtful look passed upon the woman's face. "But it's raining now, surely you do not want to go out in this rain?"

"I do. Please, let me pass." Larsa's tone left no room for argument and the inn-keeper inwardly sighed. She shook her head but let the boy go to the door leading to the inn's garden out back. "Be sure to wash up after you run around in the rain so you don't catch a cold dearie. Master Basch will be quite upset if he learns about this."

Ignoring the warning, Larsa made his way to the back garden, walking tentatively out into the rain. The water splashed on his face as he looked up at the sky—it was still light out. The cold rain washed over his face, down his cheeks and neck, and seeped into his tunic. This feeling, Larsa thought, had almost left him. The young lord walked further out into the garden, feeling the rain wash over him. He ignored the cold as he looked up at the sky, and all the feelings came back like a tidal wave, and he began to cry.

Again, the tears came, hot and burning as they rolled down his cheeks, merging with the rain that poured from the sky. All the pain welled up in his chest and soon, soft sobs escaped the young lord's lips. Crying—again he was crying... that was all he could do about these feelings inside him that were once reciprocated. All they were good for now was this—to be a reason to weep in the rain.

All he cared about were the emotions which raged within him, and the feel of rain cascading down his soaked onyx hair and pale skin. He had not felt so much despair. Larsa did not know how long he stood there, drenched in the rain—crying and unfeeling of the cold.

"Lord Larsa! Lord Larsa, are you out here?" A frantic voice broke the young lord from his reverie and he turned his head in the direction of the inn.

Perhaps it was the darkness that came with the setting sun, the rain falling on his face, or the tears that blurred his vision—but in that blur, he saw golden hair and a face that made his chest burn. He blinked away the rain and the tears, but in the haze of the rain he only saw _him_—standing beside him under the torrent.

Larsa ran to Basch, almost knocking the captain over with force by which the boy clung to him—fingers curled tightly in his tunic. Basch could only wrap his strong arms around the boy, he could tell by the latter's breath that he had been crying; and by how soaked his clothes were—he knew Larsa had been crying in the rain for quite some time. But those things were for some other time, right there and then he felt that this was all the boy need. Comfort.

"D-do you know... the reason why I stand in th—the rain... w-when I... when I am sad?" Larsa managed to choke out as he looked up again at the darkening sky. Basch merely shook his head. "It is because when I cry under the rain, I feel as if I am not alone—as if the sky is crying with me... and no one else will know that I am crying."

The sorrow in the boy's tone gripped at Basch's heart and he instinctively pulled him closer, burying his face in the onyx boy's hair. "You are not alone Lord Larsa... I am here... I shall always be here."

Larsa finally met Basch's eyes with his own swollen cobalt ones, and for that moment, the older man felt as if Larsa looked at him as if he was someone else.

And in that rainy twilight, Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, the heir to the Archadian Empire and Basch fon Ronsenburg, fallen Captain of Dalmasca, with quivering and hesitant lips—kissed.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**Don't kill me for the last part!**

Sorry I was unable to upload a chapter last week, the new semester was harder than I expected!

This chapter was a little harder to come up with because I couldn't exactly jump back into some Larsa and Gabranth loving after that fiasco in the last chapter.

Don't worry though, _someone _is bound to come looking for Larsa soon enough. :)

Thank you for all the new reviews, they keep me happy and inspired. Please don't hesitate to drop me a line, I really do appreciate everything. Comments and suggestions would be very much appreciated.

Till next chapter.

Seph


	11. Chapter 11

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 11 begins the morning after the previous chapter.

**Author's Notes: **Not proof-read so will probably contain a lot of grammatical eyesores. Sorry.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"On your feet Lord Larsa, quickly now!" Basch all but hauled the Solidor heir off the bed as the rest of the group gathered their belongings in a rush. Larsa rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he let the older man guide him, nearly stumbling at everyone's fast pace.

"What in Ivalice is going on?" Larsa asked when he was finally fully awake. Balthier raised an eyebrow as he escorted Vaan, Penelo, and Ashe out the door of their rented room. "It seems as if Imperials have found us Emperor-ling. I have not all the details, but I am not waiting to find out. We must take our leave while we still can."

Larsa's breath caught in his throat and he stood frozen for a moment before the sky-pirate gently placed a hand on the small of his back—urging him forward. "Let's go Emperor-ling, everyone is waiting." Basch took a small hand in his and smiled. "We are with you Lord Larsa."

The young lord nodded as they hurried surreptitiously about the upper floor, hearing the inn keeper try her best to keep whoever was downstairs from forcing their way up. Vaan pointed at an open window and the group made haste to climb up to it, throwing their packs first haphazardly.

"Too bad we couldn't stay longer, I totally felt like royalty in there!" Vaan chirped, still in high spirits even though they were practically on the run, treading lightly on the roofs of Archadian homes. Everyone seemed surprisingly capable of hopping from one roof to another, much to Balthier's surprise, except for the young lord who kept slipping and nearly falling as they went.

"I'm afraid you will have to carry him Basch, we will make better time that way—and he will be safer." The sky-pirate ruffled Larsa's hair as he went ahead, guiding the rest of the party. The boy nearly yelped as the captain lifted him easily, pulling him close to the older man's chest, as the latter ran light-footedly to catch up with the others.

"I suppose it is too much to ask for two days respite from Imperial pursuit when we have a Solidor on our hands." Basch said in good humour as they continued to run. Vaan, Penelo, and Ashe chimed with amused laughter, Balthier grunted in agreement, and Fran responded with her version of a smile. Larsa felt his cheeks burn as he squirmed slightly in Basch's arms. The young lord ventured a look upward, staring at the Captain's strong jaw and his blonde stubble. He unconsciously ran his hand on his smooth chin, a little disappointed at finding not even the slightest sign of growing any facial hair.

Without thinking, Larsa reached out and grazed said stubble with his fingertips. Basch stopped abruptly, surprised at the unexpected touch. The Solidor quickly withdrew his hand as if he had been burnt and looked up at Basch with apologetic cobalt eyes. "F-forgive me, I did not know what I was doing."

Basch shook his head and smiled, "I was merely startled. There is nothing to forgive my lord." Without another word, the Captain regained his pace, though a sudden dull ache made itself known in the most inopportune region and at a most inopportune time. Basch swallowed.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Vaan leaned against the wall of the alley they had taken a break in, quite satisfied that they had put enough distance between them and the pursuing Imperials. "Wow, I'd give them credit if they're still on our tail after all that running!"

Penelo was bent over trying to catch her breath, one hand pressed against the same wall. "I should hope not, I'm tired and my legs feel like lead!" Ashe nodded her agreement, too tired to reply with words. Fran did not look as tired, but one could see that she was a little winded. Basch had set the young lord down and was sitting quietly as he caught his breath.

Balthier walked over to the Solidor who looked so ill-at-ease that he could not stop fidgeting from one foot to another. "Emperor-ling," The sky-pirate placed a hand on Larsa's shoulder and the latter nearly jumped out of his own skin in agitated surprise. "A word?" Balthier raised both brows in surprise at the unusual reaction, but decided to ask about it later.

Larsa walked stiffly to where they could talk semi-privately and he began to chew on his lip, refusing to look up at the sky-pirate. "Before we left, I heard from one of the bar maids that it was a Judge Magister that was searching for us back at the inn, not ordinary Imperials." Balthier looked with trained eyes as the young lord again shifted restlessly in his spot. "If Ghis and Bergan have already been defeated and Drace is no more, as you have said, and I am quite sure that Zargabaath would not pursue us... then who, pray tell Emperor-ling, are we up against?"

Larsa's head snapped back, blue eyes wide in realization. Balthier spoke the truth. Without Ghis, Bergan, Drace, or Zargabaath—there was only one Judge Magister left. _Him._ He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat and mouth ran dry. "It's _him_... Balthier! It's _him!_" The young lord's voice cracked as tears began to sting the corners of his eyes. The sky-pirate's lips drew taut. "It's Gabranth isn't it? He's finally come."

The Solidor heir buried his face in his hands and began to cry, the sudden pain in his chest seemingly unbearable. Basch was soon with them and he frowned at the sky-pirate. "What did you do Balthier?" The latter shouldered his gun and looked seriously at the captain. "The head of the Magisters is behind us, we must go at once—we cannot delay."

"They are tired, as are you and I—we cannot keep running. If he is to come, then we shall have to engage him in battle. There is no other way. I see in your eyes that you know this to be true." Basch hissed. Larsa's fingers tightened their hold on Basch's tunic at the mention of battle, and he silently wished that Gabranth would not come this far to _retrieve_ him—at his brother's behest, no doubt.

Balthier shrugged. "I was hoping for an alternative. You are aware that we are in no condition to fight the Judge Magister they call Gabranth. We would be lucky to escape with our lives." The Captain felt a sinking feeling in his stomach at the truth of Balthier's words, but he stood steadfast as he held the young lord in his arms.

"Then we would have to be more than just lucky this time."

"Indeed."

The sound of the other members' shuffling caught their attention, and Balthier and Basch almost simultaneously turned their heads toward the noise. The sound of heavy footfalls rang in their ears as everyone tried to keep their breathing silent—the unmistakable grating of Magister armour rebounding clearly in the alleyway. He was close. So very close.

Strange, Fran thought as her ears twitched at the sound of footsteps, she had never heard of an Imperial walking alone—much less a Judge Magister. However, this one _was_ alone, there was no mistaking it. "The Magister. He is alone." Fran stated flatly in a hushed tone.

"Then it'll be a piece of cake! It'll be all of us against one of him!" Vaan suddenly blurted out, clearly giving away their position. Everyone held their breath.

"I would think not." A cold, steely voice pierced the tense silence of the alley as the Judge Magister finally came into view—armour and helm intact, and double swords in hand. "I have come for Lord Larsa alone. If you release him quietly, I shall not pursue you. To decide otherwise would be most unwise."

Vaan drew his short sword at the challenge, "As I've said, there's only one of you and six of us—there's no way we're handing over Larsa to you!" Larsa grabbed Vaan's arm and shook his head, "Vaan, I shall go—I shall not let any of you risk your lives for my sake."

Penelo stepped in front of the young Solidor defensively. "No! I won't let him take you again!" Basch stepped forward as well. "Nor I." Balthier pinched the bridge of his nose before he chuckled softly. "It seems that we have decided. The young lord stays with us."

Fran drew her bow wordlessly and aimed an arrow squarely at the Judge Magister. Ashe drew her weapon as she took Larsa's hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "We are with you Larsa, do not be afraid." The young lord was still crying, but he nodded at the princess' words as he took a step back—not daring to look at Gabranth.

"A most foolish choice." The words were barely spoken before Gabranth charged forward, striking Vaan's short sword heavily with one of his own. Vaan nearly gave in to the strength of the blow, but Penelo quickly countered by striking a blow of her own which the Magister quickly evaded. Fran released an arrow which was parried with ease and Balthier's bullet completely missed its mark due to Gabranth's speed.

"Such skill!" Ashe hissed as she tried her best to keep the young lord away from the advancing Magister, the rest of the party obviously having a difficult time doing the same. Basch held his long sword tightly before bringing it down heavily on one of Gabranth's swords.

"Enough play." Gabranth whirled his swords about, sending Basch crashing against the narrow alleyway's wall.

"Basch! No!" Larsa broke free from Ashe's grip as he rushed to where the Captain fell, completely forgetting the danger he was in.

Gabranth stood dumbfounded as he watched the Solidor rush to his brother's side... he felt a bitter pain in his chest and he clenched the hilts of his swords tighter—suddenly overcome with a murderous rage. The Magister charged at the beaten captain again, roughly pushing Larsa away, but not enough to actually hurt him. However, before he could drive his sword into Basch, an arrow pierced the leather of his armour, right below the shoulder—a weak spot—which sent Gabranth reeling backward.

Basch quickly regained his footing and, before the Judge could compose himself, struck Gabranth's helm with the broad side of his sword—unhinging the helm from the magister plate. Cobalt eyes stared back at strikingly identical ones and Basch found himself staring at what seemed to be... himself...?

"What the-?" Vaan's short sword fell on the stone street as he stared at the sight before him. Penelo clasped both hands to her mouth in shock. Ashe and Fran were speechless, as was Balthier. Larsa was the most shocked of all, blue eyes wide with realization as he stared at both men at such close proximity.

Gabranth was the first to recover from the initial shock of the situation, and with trained speed, sheathed his swords, grabbed his helm, and snatched the Solidor heir by the waist from where he stood before whisking him away before the rest of the party could pursue them.

The deathly silence that followed was pregnant with too many unspoken questions.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Larsa stared at his hands as he sat stiffly on his seat on the airship, head bowed low—avoiding the sight of the Judge Magister who sat just across him, equally silent. There was only the sound of the engines which echoed in the room—no words... nothing aloud, but the tension in the air spoke volumes of what was left unsaid between them.

Gabranth ventured another look at the cabin door, and affirming to himself that it was locked, raised a hand tentatively to reach for the young lord's face. Larsa flinched at the sudden contact of a cool glove against his cheek, and he pressed a hand on the spot as if he had been stung. "Don't. Just... just don't." The Solidor whispered shakily as he bit his lip to keep himself from crying. He just could not take any more of this—the pain, the confusion, the rejection—it just had to stop.

"My lord..." Gabranth whispered as he reached out again, but Larsa would not let the Magister touch him as he turned farther away. The blonde sighed, knowing that he deserved every bit of the young lord's rejection—but it did not stop him from trying. "Lord Larsa... the bonds of our duties... of your position and mine... surely, you must understand."

At these words, Larsa felt his hands ball into fists—sadness suddenly turned into anger—and he drew his head up, staring at the Judge Magister with his intense cobalt gaze. "Understand? What do you know of understanding Gabranth? Did you not ask me if I trusted you—beyond the _proprieties_, beyond the _duties_ of your position and mine? Did I not tell you that I did? Did I not tell you that _I trusted you with my life_? Did I not tell you all these things Gabranth? Did you not understand?" Larsa's voice shook as he spoke, cheeks flushed, and body quivering with emotion.

"I know you heard me as I wept outside your door. I know you heard me as I begged for you to let me in. I know you heard me when I told you that _I loved you_. And I know that you chose to do _nothing!_ That is the kind of man you are Gabranth, I realize that now." The tears came and they began to roll freely down pale cheeks, but Larsa no longer cared. He just had to let it out—he had to let it all out, and finally let go.

"Look at me Gabranth and see what you have done. Know that the pain you have caused me will make me into a better man than you ever were, because I was strong enough to love you against the Empire and my kin—_against the very nature of things_."

Gabranth felt his lips quiver at the Solidor heir's words; they stabbed through him like red-hot iron. The wounds they left felt raw and he bled inside, the pain in his chest threatening to asphyxiate him. He did not want things to end this way—he longed for nothing more than to hold the young lord in his arms as he used to do—to kiss him as he did not too long ago, to love him as the Solidor heir had once freely offered to.

"Is your honor so great Gabranth? Tell me. Is this the price of honor that you have so willingly agreed to pay? Your honor is not enough to cover all the lies!"

The Judge Magister stood up abruptly, fingers curling against the hard wood of the table. "Hurt you I may have with my actions, but never have I lied to you my lord!"

Larsa choked back a sob. "Then tell me why have we come to this? Who am I to you Gabranth?"

"Because you are my lord, and who I truly am is someone unworthy of what we have shared."

"Whether you are worthy of what I offer is for me to decide!" Larsa shook his head as he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. "It does not matter to me who you are to others, but only who you have been to me!"

"I have slain my own king, betrayed my own country, nearly killed my own brother, failed to protect the Emperor, and I have killed Drace by my own hand. I am a hound Lord Larsa, this is what I am! I have no honor left but that which comes with this office as Judge Magister and as your guardian." Gabranth raised his voice slightly at the surge of emotions that came with his words.

"And it is that same honor that drives us apart... Gabranth, I can no longer do this." The Solidor heir raised a hand to his chest which felt like it was ready to burst. "I cannot keep hoping that somehow, things will go back to the way they were. I know who you are Gabranth, and what you say you are—I know all of the things you have told me, and I have accepted all of you... as you are. But if my acceptance and my love is not enough to keep you—then help me... help me let you go... because my heart can no longer go on as it has. Tell me you do not love me as I do, it is the last thing I shall ask of you Gabranth."

"You would have me lie." The blonde hissed hoarsely as he removed his armoured gloves, their weight seemed to weigh down the rest of him as he sat back down—letting his fingers slide through his short blonde hair.

"I would have you tell me the truth. A parting gift." Larsa turned away, both wanting and fearing the words he asked for. It was the only way to end the bitter longing in his heart.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around the boy's fragile form and Larsa stiffened at the embrace. "No, do not do this Gabranth. Please... do not do this to me again." The Solidor heir begged as he tried to pull away, but failed. "You cannot keep doing this—you cannot keep pulling me back only to push me away again! Do not toy with me so!" Larsa wept bitterly as he looked accusingly at Gabranth who knelt in front of him, the latter's blue eyes not leaving his own.

"You cannot keep on doing this to me—I cannot push you away by myself..."

"If it is the truth that you ask of me..." Gabranth whispered as his lips ghosted over hot tears which rolled down flushed cheeks. "Understand that it is to be a confession of my sin and my shame—"

"I do not underst—" Larsa had barely opened his mouth before Gabranth's lips crashed against his own in a heated kiss, catching him off-guard. The blonde drew back, his eyes darkened with emotion and desire as he watched the Solidor heir regain his composure. "Lord Larsa... what I feel for you—this love—and this desire that burns through me..." Gabranth again pressed his lips against Larsa's, this time more demanding than the first, tongue slipping through slightly parted lips. The boy involuntarily moaned as the Magister claimed him with his mouth, fingers clutching desperately at cropped, golden hair.

"This." Gabranth sucked Larsa's lower lip until the boy turned his face away, a healthy blush clearly staining his cheeks. The blonde hauled the young lord and seated him on the table before bringing his lips dangerously close to a sensitive ear, breathing heavily, making Larsa whimper involuntarily as a shiver ran through him. He did not understand what was happening, but he could not bring himself to move away.

The Magister smiled against the shell of the small ear before he whispered hotly, "This is my sin." Larsa's eyes went wide as he felt ghost-light fingers slip beneath his tunic, setting a trail of fire on his already feverish skin. "G-gabranth I—ahh..." Larsa hissed as the Magister's tongue swirled around the shell of his ear, involuntarily arching against the older man. Gabranth pulled the young lord taut against his body, moulding their bodies together—wanting the Solidor heir to feel his desire. "This is my shame..."

Larsa curled his fingers tightly around Gabranth's forearms, as he looked up with glazed eyes at his Judge Protector—the other's words barely registering in his fogged mind. The sensations that were coursing through him sent his mind reeling and he could barely contain the moans which escaped his lips as Gabranth's fingers traced lightly over his chest and stomach. "G-gabranth.. please..." For what he begged for, Larsa did not know—only that he felt as if he was standing on a precipice, waiting for something—anything...

"What is it that you ask of me, my lord...?" Gabranth hissed as he pressed his hips insistently against the boy's thigh, eyes sliding shut as an unrestrained moan escaped the Solidor's lips. Larsa arched against the Magister's chest, head thrown back, exposing his smooth pale neck—the invitation was not left unanswered. Gabranth pressed hungry lips against the exposed flesh, nipping lightly before trailing with his tongue. He wanted this—he had wanted this for too long... "My lord, do you feel me... do you feel my desire for you?" Gabranth asked huskily as he pushed up Larsa's tunic past his chest.

Lara could barely hear Gabranth's words over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, but he felt his cheeks burn in a mixture of embarrassment and desire. He tried to pull his tunic back down in an attempt to hide the evidence of his apparently growing desire. Gabranth's intense gaze sent shivers down Larsa's body, pooling at the pit of his belly and he tried to look away, but a firm hand kept him from turning his head away and Larsa blushed an even deeper shade of crimson.

A small, uncharacteristic smile tugged at the edge of Gabranth's lips as he pulled the tunic open, letting it fall over slender shoulders, gathering at Larsa's bent shoulders. Again, Larsa looked up at him with pleading eyes, and Gabranth nearly lost it. The blonde buried his face in the crook between the boy's neck and shoulder and lapped at the sensitive skin beneath his lips. Larsa cried out at the sensation as he pulled his legs together in a desperate attempt to hide his growing problem. However, Gabranth was almost too far gone and he slid a strong arm between the boy's legs and pried them apart. Larsa looked away, tears in his eyes from shame for he could no longer hide it... he felt so vulnerable and embarrassed, almost half undressed in front of his Judge Protector—not because of the position they were in (though it made up a big part of it) but moreso because he did not want the older man to stop.

"D-D-Don't look... " Larsa pleaded as he again tried to pull his legs together, but Gabranth had pressed a hand firmly upon his upper thigh, intent on keeping them as they were. The blonde's face loomed dangerously close to Larsa's, their lips barely touching. "Why... why hide from me? Are you ashamed...?"

Larsa suddenly realized what everything Gabranth was doing was all about, and he bit his lip as he shook his head. "No. I am not ashamed..." The blonde pressed his forehead against Larsa's own and he gave a resigned smile. "Lord Larsa Ferinnas Solidor... you are _impossible._" "As you are, Judge Magister Gabranth." Larsa pulled himself up and pressed his lips lightly over the blonde's. "As you are."

Again, lips met hungrily, bodies grinding shamelessly, and tongues dancing languidly with each other. All the pent up emotions and desires spilled forth into actions as desperate fingers clutched, pulled, and squeezed almost frantically in between soft gasps and stifled moans. Gabranth's fingers traced lightly from the flushed skin of Larsa's chest down to his smooth stomach, until they lingered at the top of the young lord's trousers—as if waiting.

Larsa bit his lip as he blushed anew, though he could no longer hide his desire, having Gabranth so close to him made it even harder to ignore. Gabranth cradled Larsa's head in one hand as he leaned against the table, his body almost covering the whole of Larsa's own. He kissed the top of the boy's head as he whispered against Larsa's skin. "My lord... will you... will you let me..." Gabranth trailed off as his other hand shamelessly grasped the boy's arousal through the thin fabric of his trousers making Larsa cry out in surprise—eyes wide at the boldness of Gabranth's actions.

The pink color from Larsa's cheeks seemed to spread down his neck and to all the skin then exposed to Gabranth's view, and the way the boy writhed beneath him was almost enough to make the soldier lose all his self-control. Larsa bit into his knuckle to stifle another moan as he nodded shakily, looking away from Gabranth, too embarrassed to meet the older man's gaze.

Gabranth captured the Solidor's lips once more, slipping his tongue into the welcoming heat and drowning himself in Larsa's taste. By the gods, the boy was addicting—and by the way the young lord moaned and pressed up against him, it was too much of a sin, but one which Gabranth had been permitted to commit, and he was more than glad to oblige. He tightened his hold on the young lord's desire which made Larsa arch off the table, eyes rolling back as a string of non-coherent whispers passed through kiss-swollen lips.

"I need... I need you—Gabranth please... please do something..." Larsa cried out in desperation as he tried to stay his hips which seemed to press up against the older man's touch on its own volition. The shame he felt was slowly melting away as pleasure flooded his senses... there was only this—only Gabranth and this desire... this love that they shared... and he wanted it all.

Gabranth, for the life of him, could barely think straight, and the young lord begging beneath him did not help the situation. Had he been less trained, he would have taken the young lord right on the table of the airship cabin even before they even reached the Imperial Palace, but he respected Lord Larsa and would not subject him to such a thing.

Going against every nerve in his body, Gabranth pulled himself upright, helping the young lord sit up on the table before gingerly pulling Larsa's tunic over his slight shoulders and lacing it closed with less than agile fingers. A small hand held Gabranth's own, stopping it from its work. The Judge Magister kissed Larsa's palm gently, smiling against it. "Soon my lord, we are nearly home."

Larsa nodded mutely and let Gabranth finish lacing up his tunic, purposely averting his eyes as a sudden wave of renewed embarrassment washed over him. Gabranth gathered the young lord in a tight embrace.

"Do you accept this _hound_... this _criminal_—because after this, you must know Lord Larsa, that I shall no longer let you go."

"I accept this _man_, fully as he is—his past, his present, and his future if he shall choose to have me in it." Larsa whispered as he pulled himself tighter against his guardian. "There is only you Gabranth... and I do not intend to let you go either."

The abrupt knock on the steel door of the cabin signalled their arrival at the Imperial dock. Larsa refused to let go of his guardian's hand, suddenly afraid that the whole trip had been a dream and that he would wake up and find himself alone again. Gabranth squeezed the young lord's hand as he made to open the door, careful to hide the latter behind his armoured form.

"We dock in 2 minutes Master Judge, I hope you had a pleasant, albeit short, journey." The captain said through the small gap by the cabin door. A small smile made its way to Gabranth's lips.

"Yes, a pleasant trip. Quite a pleasant one indeed."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

I had to cut the chapter before it necessitated a drastic rating change! Haha.

But seriously, I wasn't letting something that special happen on a table—in an airship. Really.

Not much to say but to thank my reviewers, you have all been my inspiration. :)

So... well... uhmm... it's safe for everyone who is reading this story to assume that the next chapter will be of a different rating. Yes, yes, I know—it's about time. Lol. :P But seriously, yeah, rating jump for next chapter for sure.

Till then,

Seph


	12. Chapter 12

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 12 begins where Chapter 11 left off. **Oh, and this chapter is rated M for a reason!**** ;) **Skip this if you're sensitive to that—you have been warned.

**Author's Notes: **Not proof-read so will probably contain a lot of grammatical eyesores. Sorry.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"I see that Gabranth has—_retrieved_—you." Vayne Solidor mused without looking up from the paperwork on his desk, though his deliberate choice of words did nothing to conceal his malice.

Larsa did his best not to cringe at his brother's words and merely clenched his small hands into fists behind his back. "Indeed he has." The younger Solidor bit out as he stood there awkwardly in his brother's study, the latter not even bothering to look at him since he had returned.

"If there is nothing more to be said here, then I shall retire to my chambers. I take my leave of you—_brother._" Larsa all but hissed the last word as he turned on his heel, intent on leaving before the tension in the room suffocated him. It pained the young lord to be at odds with his older brother and only surviving family, but he could not bear being around Vayne when he was in one of his darker moods.

Vayne raised cold blue eyes to watch his younger brother's back disappear behind the heavy oaken doors of his study, a deep frown etched into his handsome features—but said nothing even as the doors closed shut with a dull thud.

Gabranth, who had been waiting outside the room, took in the boy's perplexed expression and decided that any questions would be better asked later. He nodded wordlessly before leading Larsa to his chambers, the only sound between them was the grating of the Judge Magister's armour as they walked through the unusually empty hallways.

Larsa stopped a few paces short of the doors to his chamber before he turned to Gabranth, lower lip caught between his teeth as he did his best to avoid looking the Magister in the eye. "Gabranth—would you... I mean, if you want—you could... could you perhaps—uhmmm.."

The blonde felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips as he watched the Solidor heir's cheeks turn from pale pink to a now deeper shade of red, teeth nibbling the delicate lower lip at a pace that threatened to break the skin. "Forgive me Lord Larsa, but I have imperial duties which I must attend to at once."

"Oh..." Larsa quietly replied as he turned his back on his Judge Protector, shoulders unconsciously sagging at his disappointment. "I see. In that case, you may take your leave Gabranth. Thank you, for bringing me home."

Powerful arms wrapped around Larsa's small frame and the boy nearly yelped in surprise at the unexpected embrace. Cobalt eyes quickly realized that they were alone and he let himself be pulled tighter against a taut chest, a small sigh escaping his lips. "But perhaps after my duties... if the invitation is still open then?" Gabranth whispered dangerously close to the shell of the young lord's ear, making the latter shiver and blush anew.

"The invitation is always open..." Larsa whispered back shyly as they slowly pulled away from each other for fear that someone might walk in on them—the events a few days prior still painfully fresh in each other's minds. Armoured hands held gloved ones a little longer, squeezing them gently before finally letting go.

"I take my leave Lord Larsa." Gabranth bowed low, not one to forget formalities. Larsa nodded in acknowledgment before he was pulled brusquely towards the older man, warm lips quickly finding his in a hurried kiss. The Solidor heir's legs turned boneless beneath him but he was able to pull himself together before Gabranth finally took his leave, quickly disappearing down the corridor.

A small smile played on Larsa's lips as unsteady legs barely managed to take him to his bed chambers where he all but threw himself on the mattress. The exhaustion brought by the day's events finally catching up to him, Larsa drifted off to the first peaceful sleep he had had in days.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"G—gabra—aah..." Larsa cried out softly, trying his best to muffle the moans which followed as calloused hands disappeared under his tunic. His face burned in a mixture of embarrassment and something else—some unbridled need which threatened to spill over as experienced lips latched on to a sensitive ear.

The young lord moaned again as fingers descended to the front of his trousers, closing tightly around the obvious evidence of his desire. "Oh gods... G-gabranth... w—what are you-" The Judge Magister tightened his grip and Larsa's words melted into incoherent whispers as the boy bucked helplessly beneath Gabranth's touch. The older man's tongue darted slyly into a sensitive shell, down a pale neck, and settled into lapping the spot where neck and shoulder met—before biting down with a soft grunt.

"Nggggnn... Gabranth please—I can't..." Cobalt eyes flew wide open as a deep hot sensation coursed down from where the Judge had bitten him until it settled into a simmering pool at the pit of his stomach. He fought hard to stay his hips, but they were helplessly thrusting into the Magister's hand as if on their own volition and he could not help but moan again.

"You can't _what_ my lord?" Gabranth's voice was husky against Larsa's ear as the Judge pulled him tighter against his much larger body with one hand while the other continued with its ministrations. Larsa shook his head, unable to think clearly as small hands tried to stay the much larger one holding his manhood. "Y—you have to s-stop—please, I...c-c—oh gods!" Larsa's plea was cut short when Gabranth slipped a hand inside the boy's trousers.

The boy's head rolled back unto Gabranth's shoulder, teeth biting so hard into his lower lip yet still unable to muffle completely the small moans which spilled forth from his mouth. "_Stop?_ Why so?" The Magister taunted as he ran his fingers slowly up and down the now weeping flesh, making its owner cry out and press up harder against him.

Tears stung the corners of Larsa's eyes as he felt both shame and desire battle for supremacy in his mind. If Gabranth did not stop what he was doing, surely he would—he would end up doing what he had only done alone, in the privacy of his own chambers... and yet he wanted this—wanted Gabranth to finish what he started. He was so close—too close...

Small fingers clutched at the sheets so tightly, knuckles blanching. Large cobalt eyes silently pleaded with half-lidded blue ones before a final stroke caused everything to go white—

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Larsa shot up to a sitting position on his bed, his breathing ragged, as he unconsciously clutched at the duvet too tightly. "What in... Ivalice..." The young Solidor look around his chambers, seeing that it was almost evening, before he looked back down on his deep plum duvet—suddenly afraid to pull it off. He raised an unsteady hand to wipe the sweat on his forehead. He felt hot all over—burning even, and his heart was pounding so hard against his chest it almost hurt.

"A dream..." Larsa whispered to himself as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. The dream had been so vivid it was almost real—and that scared the Solidor heir, for he had never felt any need so—_raw_, for lack of a better word. He tentatively slipped a hand beneath the duvet, between the coverlet and his sheets, before his blue eyes went wide and his cheeks burned in shame even though he was alone at what he felt _there._

Larsa closed his eyes and tried to win over _it_ through self control—but failed miserably as images of a certain Judge Magister in the heat of passion flooded his senses and did nothing but worsen his current predicament. The Solidor heir groaned into his pillow, wishing that his problem would just go away—supper was going to be served soon and he could not afford to leave his chambers in the state he was in.

As if the fates had heard him—and had decided to toy with the young lord some more—a soft knock echoed through his chambers before a chamber maid entered and with a slight curtsey, announced that supper was served and that his Lord Brother was awaiting his presence in the dining hall.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Larsa shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the cushion making squeaky noises which raised more than a few eyebrows from Vayne, the armoured judges, minor imperials, and even the servants. An armoured hand tapped the young lord's shoulder making him yelp as he nearly jumped out of his seat, finally earning a reaction from the older Solidor who was sitting across Larsa.

"What in Ivalice are you on about Larsa? Is there something the matter that it seems that you cannot sit still for supper?" Vayne sounded exasperated as he put down his knife and fork, eyeing his younger brother squarely.

Larsa shook his head, a slight flush rising in his cheeks. "F-forgive me. I am just a bit—ill at ease... from a... _nightmare_ I had this afternoon. I will feel better soon."

Vayne raised a finely chiselled eyebrow at this. "A nightmare? Would you like to tell me about it?"

Larsa swallowed at the rapidly forming lump in his throat as images from his dream began to resurface in his mind and resurrect the problem that had been only mildly abated before he went for supper. "Oh... no, no brother. It was silly really... it is not worth worrying over. It is best we forget about it." The young lord said unconvincingly as he pretended to be overly-interested on the food on his plate.

Gabranth, who was standing behind Vayne's seat, noted Larsa's odd behaviour and knew that the boy was not being entirely truthful, but remained motionless—deciding that later would be a better time to ask. It seemed that there were quite a few questions to be answered that evening.

Supper was over much too quickly than usual as Larsa barely ate his meal and was in an odd rush to return to his chambers that he literally ran out of the dining hall, barely brushing past Gabranth who had managed to open the door for him. Vayne stood up wordlessly from the table and promptly left the hall, the Judge Magister following close behind him.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Larsa laid on his back, body buried in his sheets, feeling like he was on fire. His cheeks burned but not so much as a specific part of his anatomy which now refused to be ignored. One look at the Judge Magister in the dining hall and he was nearly at wits end that he just had to literally run out of the room to save himself from further shame. The young Solidor rolled over unto his belly and buried his face in his pillow—he was truly suffering, and he could not bring himself to do the one thing that could definitely ease it.

Minutes passed like hours as Larsa laid there like an idiot, face down on his pillow as he lost the battle of wills against his desire miserably—his erection throbbing madly between his legs. Each time he shifted, his trousers brushed against his sensitized skin making him moan involuntarily and heightening his almost unbearable arousal.

Again, Larsa shifted uncomfortably on the bed, groaning at the friction that it created as he rolled back over unto his back. He tried to think of politics or such other academic topics in the hopes that it would calm his nerves, however, he had only gotten past "The Ministry" before thoughts of a certain Magistrate pushed him into such desire and frustration that the young lord felt like he would cry.

He had thought about doing it himself, but it was much too embarrassing. He had not touched himself in the longest time, thinking it was juvenile and was not to be done by mature young men such as himself. He had been successful in abating such desires by focusing his mind on more relevant matters, however, it did not seem to be working at the present.

Slim fingers danced over the duvet, refusing to go underneath though they were itching to—_relieve—_certain problems, and in a futile attempt to calm himself, Larsa grabbed handfuls of the plum duvet with such force that his knuckles blanched much like it did when he woke up from the nap which started the whole predicament.

More minutes passed and Larsa felt himself getting more and more desperate, in the back of his mind he knew he could not hold out much longer. Never had he needed to touch himself so badly in all his short years. He stared blankly at the canopy of his bed and gritted his teeth as his fingers found their way beneath the duvet, but not beneath the sheets which separated them from his body—breath hitching at the slight contact.

_By the gods...Gabranth._

Larsa muffled a moan with the back of one hand as he let his right hand drift downwards, carelessly unlacing the front of his trousers before he could stop himself. He did it deliberately slowly—or at least as slowly as one who was beyond aroused and was ready to throw all impropriety out the window if only to end it quickly could do so.

_I certainly am not going to do anything... I am just releasing the pressure so that it might dissipate in time..._

Larsa thought to himself as his fingers tangled up the laces of his trousers in his haste to undo them. It did do some good, some of the pressure having been released—but it wasn't enough. Larsa's toes curled in embarrassment as he slowly inched the trousers down his legs. No one was in his chambers and he was under two layers of the duvet and the sheets—surely this wasn't supposed to feel as shameful as it did, he wasn't going to actually _do_ anything. _Was I?_

He refused to look beneath the covers, praying that being half-naked under the sheets would make his erection go away. For a minute or two, Larsa just laid there staring blankly at the deep red canopy above his bed. Larsa did not realize that he was doing it, but his hand had travelled from where it rested after pushing off his trousers to the base of his aching flesh where it wrapped itself tightly, as if by instinct.

Cobalt blue eyes refocused as he bit his lower lip to stifle a soft moan. _I cannot do this now—it is too shameful... and Gabranth... he might come in at any moment. I can't—I can't possibly have him see me like this._

Larsa tried to pull his hand away, but his failing resolve did not allow him to do so. Instead, the hand moved up his erection before it moved back down as if on its own. The young lord closed his eyes as he swallowed nervously, a moan escaping him as he repeated the motion.

"Larsa, you cannot do this." The boy whispered hoarsely to himself.

But his body seemed to have ideas of its own.

_Perhaps I should simply get it over with, then I shall have no further problems with it tonight._

Larsa justified his hand's refusal to leave his erection, now fully award of his actions, no matter how shameful they were. He repeated the motion once more, eyes fluttering closed as his lips parted in a short gasp. The Solidor tried to do it as slowly as possible, still unsure if he truly wanted to "get it over with" in that manner—however, he was unable to keep the excruciatingly slow pace given how aroused he was and ended up speeding up his movements.

His desire threatened to overflow as he pumped almost shamelessly into his own hand, Larsa's need increasing with each stroke. Larsa had not touched himself in so long that it was no wonder that sofew strokes could bring him so close to release as he was now. The Solidor's mind was whirling in a blur of sensation and lust and unbridled desire. He did not behave like this in any situation, however, at that moment he had gone beyond propriety or even caring at all.

Larsa's breathing was ragged and he was moaning and panting as his hand moved quickly beneath the sheets. His body felt like it was on fire, as if lighting shot through him and went straight to his manhood, making him see stars behind closed lids. Without realizing it, the young lord kicked off the duvet and sheets as his hips became more erratic in their movement, back almost arching off the bed as the tension reached an almost unbearable level.

He was so close... just a few more strokes and he would be there...

Larsa could not hear his moans and whispered pleas and the name of a certain Magister which escaped between desperate gasps over the sound of his blood pounding in his ears as he neared his climax. Just a little bit more...

And suddenly a dull thud and the sound of grating metal reached Larsa's bed chambers and cobalt eyes flew wide open, mouth open in a wordless expression of shock. The young lord did the only thing he could do to save whatever dignity he had left—he rolled over unto his belly and wept disgracefully into his pillow.

Gabranth stood frozen on his spot by the entry of Larsa' bed chambers, scarcely processing more than what he had just seen. However, soft sobs brought him back to the present and he swallowed hard before his unsteady legs allowed him to walk over to the bed where the young Solidor had managed to bury himself in a mess of sheets and pillows as he wept.

"Lord Larsa..." Gabranth whispered, his voice husky and a little short of breath even to his own ears.

Larsa just shook his head as he wept and tried to bury himself further into his sheets as if willing himself to simply be eaten up by the massive mattress.

"Lord Larsa please, do not hide from me." The Judge Magister coaxed the ball underneath the duvet, which shifted slightly until an onyx-haired head appeared. The boy looked at Gabranth from beneath wet lashes, a little surprised to see that the Judge had already discarded his helmet.

"You—you've caught me in a... most shameful act and I—I... Gabranth—I cannot face you now!"

Larsa again buried his head in his sheets, wishing that the mattress would just consume him alive—he could not look Gabranth in the face after what had just happened. When the young lord refused to come out from under the covers after some coaxing, the Magister lifted Larsa up and out of the duvet, making the boy cry out in protest as he tried his best to cover up with a sheet his partial nudity.

For a moment they sat there, facing each other—the boy much more interested in the small diamonds embroidered on the plum fabric more than anything else. Gabranth, barely able to contain himself after such a _display_, quickly leaned over and captured Larsa's lips with his own. The boy gasped in surprise, allowing a skilled tongue to slip past his lips and delve into his mouth.

Larsa pulled away, embarrassment winning over desire, and he tried to turn away as tears stung his eyes. "I can't Gabranth... I am too embarrassed."

The Judge Magister pressed himself closer against the small boy, lips grazing his ear. "Embarrassed, my lord? Why so?" A strong arm wrapped itself around Larsa's waist, preventing him from moving or turning away from the older man. The contact of moist lips against his ear sent shivers up Larsa's spine and a shudder straight to his quickly reawakening arousal, but he sat up and looked at Gabranth indignantly. "You've seen me... while I was—while I was—touching myself! Gabranth, this shames me so!"

The blonde pulled the boy even tighter against him, making sure that Larsa did not miss the obvious effect of his little mishap on the Judge. By the way the boy blushed anew, Gabranth knew that Larsa had felt it pressing insistently against his thigh. Lowering his lips, Gabranth trailed light kisses over the boy's exposed neck, hands quickly ghosting under the rumpled tunic.

"I see no reason why you should be embarrassed my lord... I found its effect quite different altogether... on my part." The Judge Magister hissed under his breath as he felt Larsa roll his hips against him without really realizing what he was doing.

Larsa buried his face in the crook of Gabranth's neck and shoulder as the Magister pulled him unto his lap, the sheet barely covering his obvious arousal. Again their lips met in a heated rush, Gabranth tongue forcing its way into the boy's willing mouth, flicking against the palate and coaxing the young lord to reciprocate the motions.

Larsa shyly snaked his tongue into Gabranth's own mouth, moaning as the man sucked his lower lip as he did so. The blonde grasped small hips and pressed them down to his own confined erection in a desperate attempt to relieve the pooling tension underneath his breeches. The two broke off their heated kiss as they moaned in unison at the new sensation, though their hips rocked unsteadily against each other.

Unsteady hands pulled off Larsa's tunic, leaving him completely naked except for the thin white sheet which clung indecently to the young lord's waist. Larsa whimpered softly as his chest pressed against the cold magister plate but was quickly followed by a moan when Gabranth carelessly bit down on his shoulder, tongue lapping at the small mark he left there.

The blonde was losing it, he was practically _what did the locals at Old Archades call it? _Dry-humping the Solidor next in line to the throne of the Empire and he could not stop himself. He quickly discarded his gloves so he could feel the unmarred skin completely exposed to him—calloused hands running up the slightly arched back and down the heaving chest and flat stomach before again settling on narrow hips.

"My lord... Oh gods..." Gabranth's eyes rolled to the back of his head as Larsa rocked almost shamelessly against him, blue eyes half-lidded with passion as small hands gripped almost painfully at his shoulders. For a while Gabranth thought he could be content with this rocking motion, but soon found his hands insistently tugging at the confounded white sheet that obscured his view only to be stopped by small, shaky hands.

The blonde looked up into worried cobalt eyes. "Do you not want me to?" Gabranth barely whispered, trying to hide his disappointment and frustration. Larsa shook his head, but tried to avoid the Judge's eyes. "I do... I am just... I do not think I am ready... for you to see me... I mean, like this..." The young lord shifted on Gabranth's lap, rubbing against the latter's clothed erection and making the Judge groan despite himself. "Face to face I mean... I cannot do it yet. But... perhaps if... if uhm..."

The Judge Magister tried his best to stay himself as Larsa again shifted on his lap until he had his back pressed against the Judge's chest so that they were facing the same direction. "My lord..." the blonde began, a little confused as to their position, but soon understood when Larsa unsteadily led his right hand underneath the sheet around his waist.

Gabranth leant down and placed a kiss on top of the onyx head before resting his lips at the base of a pale neck, wrapping his left arm around Larsa's waist and pulling him tightly against his own body. With a deep breath, the blonde gently wrapped his large hand around the base of the Solidor heir's arousal.

"Oh gods...!" Larsa cried out softly in surprise, the simple action made him break into goose pimples as he involuntarily pushed his hip up at the touch. Behind him, Gabranth groaned into his neck as he shifted beneath the boy before he began running his fingers up and down Larsa's shaft. Gabranth tried to steady his pace, not wanting Larsa to finish too quickly, but he was just too aroused and the feeling of an equally aroused boy gasping and moaning and grinding against him did not help his cause.

Larsa's mind was reeling again, he clutched desperately at the sheets as his head rolled back to rest on Gabranth's shoulder. "Gabranth I... I... oh gods..." The boy gasped as the Magister quickened his pace beneath the sheet, he felt the familiar tension building up as the sound of his blood pumping began to fill his ears.

"P—please oh gods... Gabra—nth, please s-stop or I—I'm going to..." Larsa whimpered helplessly as his hips bucked almost wildly into Gabranth's expert hand. He was too close, if Gabranth didn't stop he would surely...

Gabranth tightened his hold on the hard flesh ground his hips harder against the boy above him, despite the boy's pleas for him to stop—though the lithe body said otherwise. Larsa could barely contain himself as his toes curled and his fingers clutched painfully at the sheets, he was going to come if Gabranth did not stop... again he pleaded, looking up at equally blue eyes. "G-gabranth please..."

In a wicked moment, the Judge slid a tongue into the shell of a small ear as his hand erratically pumped the hardened flesh in his palm. "Come for me Lord Larsa."

And with that Larsa arched against Gabranth's chest, head pushing hard against an armoured shoulder, the Judge's name leaving his lips in a most delicious moan, his arousal pulsing in Gabranth's hand as he came.

When the final tremors of his orgasm had passed, Larsa shyly tried to pull the now stained sheet around himself, refusing to turn his head to meet his Judge Protector's gaze. "I... I apologize G-gabranth... I just... I just needed it—I just wanted it so badly I could not... stop... myself..." Larsa trailed off feeling hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes as the realization of what just occurred dawned on him.

Gabranth however was quick to recover and pulled the young lord's chin up to give him a small kiss. "It seems that you are not the only one who made a mess... Lord Larsa."

Larsa blinked, confused at what Gabranth had meant before his attention was brought to an obvious dark patch on the Magister's breeches. "Oh. Did I... Did I do that?"

Gabranth gave a hearty laugh as he pulled the boy closer. "Yes, my lord—in a way, you did."

Larsa sported a healthy blush but managed a small smile. "I suppose this makes us even."

"Indeed." The Judge Magister chuckled as he moved the young lord unto the bed, running his hands over still slightly flushed cheeks.

For a moment they laid there in silence as their breathing returned to normal, fingers laced lazily with one another's. Larsa yawned sleepily and Gabranth could not help but smile.

"Best be off for a bath my lord, it will not do well to be found in... our current state."

Larsa smiled shyly. "I think I shall run a bath before I retire. Perhaps you could stay the night?"

The Judge Magister planted a soft kiss on the boy's forehead. "Not tonight my lord, but soon. It would be best once your Lord Brother's suspicions have died down—till then, we tread on thin ice."

The boy frowned but nodded in agreement. "Then I shall see you in the morning?"

"Yes, if your brother shall allow it."

"I shall make sure that he does."

They shared a long embrace before the Judge led the young Solidor to his bath then quickly making his way to his own chambers, careful to avoid anyone who might see him with an unexplainable dark spot on his breeches.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

I am so very sorry for the very long delay! Holidays and school just made it impossible to write... and well I suppose I was a little apprehensive since I've never written M material before. Yes I know, it's painfully obvious that I haven't, but I did try my best in this one. :x

Till the next chapter. :)

Seph


	13. Chapter 13

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 13 takes place a few weeks after Chapter 12 and right after the main party obtains the Treaty Blade from The Ancient City of Giruvegan. **Oh, and this chapter has an ****M ****rating for a reason—you have been warned. ;)**

**Author's Notes: **Not proof-read so will probably contain a lot of grammatical eyesores. Sorry.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"Restore Dalmasca's sovereignty, and make our amends with Lady Ashe. It is the only way to aver war!" Larsa tried his best to keep his voice down as he beseeched his Lord Brother, but Vayne would have none of it.

"It is a war of necessity. Your Lady Ashe herself is bent on it. She desires it above all else. She will not rest until her revenge is full-wrought."

Larsa clenched his fists in frustration, "I fear you misread her intent. She would sooner shun war than embrace it."

The older Solidor shook his head and sighed, "You are young, Larsa." He tried to lay a gloved hand on top of his younger brother's head, but Larsa stubbornly moved away—almost seething. "And you presume beyond your ken!"

Vayne clicked his tongue in annoyance at the younger Solidor's impertinence, but decided that a confrontation would shatter the fragile peace between them. "Then let us look closer. Judge Gabranth!"

The Judge Magister crossed the room and stood silently behind Vayne, careful to avoid any temptation to steal a glance at the younger heir.

"I would have you seek after the Lady Ashe... and adjudge whether she makes overtures of peace, or war. Yours shall be the eyes of the Empire." Vayne continued, pretending to be oblivious to the obvious tension between Larsa and Gabranth—though it was so thick, it was almost palpable.

Judge Gabranth nodded his assent to the command. "And should I espy war, I am to put her to the sword. Is that your wish, Excellency?"

Larsa's eyes went wide at the Magister's words—how blunt and callous they sounded, and it pained him. "It will not come to that, I am sure. I have faith in her—faith in you both." The younger Solidor bit his lip to keep his voice from shaking... he did not want Gabranth to once more draw his swords against the others. The boy laid a trembling hand on a gauntleted forearm, head bowed low to avoid looking up at its owner. "On you, Gabranth, shall I wager our fortunes."

Gabranth hastily withdrew his arm from the contact, the slight straightening of the older heir's back was enough of a sign to do the same. "As you wish." The Judge Magister bowed stiffly to both heirs before leaving the room, the heavy door thudding closed behind him.

For a moment there was an awkward silence between the three men left in the room. Doctor Cid merely watched the short exchange with the usual half-mad expression on his face; Vayne stood silently in his spot, chin cradled by a gloved hand and eyebrows furrowed in deep thought; and Larsa, lower lip still caught between his teeth, wanted to say something—but opting not to cause another argument, decided to follow the Judge Magister outside.

"I take my leave Lord Brother... Doctor Cid." The younger Solidor inclined his head slightly before hurrying out of the room to catch up with his Judge Protector.

Once they were alone, Doctor Cid tilted his head to one side, a crooked smile on his lips. "The young lord seems quite attached to his Judge Magister, do you not think so?"

"Gabranth is not _his_, just as Larsa is no longer his lord and master! _The hound serves me now_." Vayne snapped angrily, quickly silencing the old doctor. "You would do well to never bring this up again Doctor Cid, as the matter tries my patience."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

The young Solidor finally emerged from the labyrinth of hedges situated in the palace gardens, a bit out of breath. There was a little gazebo situated in the heart of the maze. It was made of marble, with vines climbing up the pillars from disuse, and flower bushes almost growing over it, shielding it from the sun. Lord Gramis had mentioned in passing that it was the Empress' favourite place. However, it had been closed off after her death—the pain of her passing was too much for the Emperor to bear.

Larsa had inadvertently discovered it in his early years when he tried desperately to hide from the Judge Magisters who were tasked to guard him, and none of them were able to find him—save one.

"Gabranth, there you are!" The young Solidor hopped up from the marble seat and approached the Judge Magister who had just made his way out of the maze, slipping his hand in Gabranth's larger one, unafraid—there was no one to cast judgment upon them there.

The Judge squeezed the small hand gently before removing his helm with his free hand and placing it upon the marble table. "Forgive my delay, there were—"

"Important imperial duties which you must attend to—yes, I understand Gabranth." Larsa finished for him with a laugh. The blonde smiled warmly before bending down to give the boy a chaste kiss. It was only here that they had no fear of being caught—where they could look at each other without hesitation, and kiss and touch slightly without shame. The marble gazebo was their own little world, and for now, they were safe.

Larsa looked up from where his head rested on Gabranth's lap, appreciating how speckles of sunlight played on the blonde's face. "Gabranth... I do not want you to go. Can you not stay here? With me?"

The Judge Magister smiled but shook his head, "I do what I must Lord Larsa."

"But you can choose to stay!"

"You know that I cannot." Gabranth said firmly as he ran his fingers through the Solidor's hair.

Larsa closed his eyes and sighed, knowing that the Magister would no longer change his mind. "I do not want you to draw your swords against the others..."

There was no reply, the rustling of leaves remained the only sound between them.

"Please Gabranth, do not fight them again."

"You doubt my skill?" The blonde coaxed Larsa to look upward to meet equally blue eyes, thumb brushing over a slowly reddening cheek. Larsa laid his hand on the much larger one on his cheek, "It is for them that I fear... your skills with the sword are without comparison."

Gabranth smirked as he bent down, lips barely grazing a small ear. "I have... _other skills_—which are yet unmatched."

The young lord's face turned a deep crimson in color as he turned away from Gabranth's teasing lips. "Do not tease me so, I was being quite serious!"

"As was I." The Judge breathed, fingers trailing down the boy's smooth jaw and further down his neck, stopping only to trace small circles lightly at the base of Larsa's pale throat.

Larsa reached up a gloved hand to stay the teasing fingers. "Do not start something which you do not intend to finish Judge Magister."

"Perhaps..." Gabranth trailed off as he dipped his head to kiss the young lord gently. However, as soon as it began, Larsa turned away from the kiss and sat up, back facing the Magister.

"There is something on my mind that has been plaguing me as of late... and I was hoping that... perhaps, we could talk about it."

Gabranth frowned, the sudden change of mood did nothing for his nerves, but he nodded in acquiesce. "I am listening Lord Larsa."

The Solidor swallowed the impossibly large lump in his throat as he gathered the courage to speak. "It is... about Basch."

The Judge's lips drew taut at the mention of his brother's name. He knew it was coming, one would have to be either blind or stupid to not see the identity of their faces—and yet, he had hoped that the matter remain unspoken.

"He is my twin and I have condemned him. That is all I have to say on the matter." Gabranth dead-panned, reverting to his Magister state—though he turned his gaze away from piercing cobalt. There was too much shame in what he had done to his own kin, and too much anger to resent doing what he had done.

For a moment, Larsa was speechless, but the initial shock of realization was slowly replaced by guilt for having kissed the Dalmascan Captain. Fear ran up his spine at the thought of Gabranth's rage for his infidelity—could it even be called that at the time he had done it?

"You know there is more to it than you say! He is your twin, your brother!" Larsa pressed, blue eyes pleading.

"He is no longer my brother. He died the moment he abandoned Landis."

"This, from one who has slain his own king!" The young lord snapped before he could think, immediately regretting it.

Gabranth abruptly stood up, his face a mask of indifference though his eyes betrayed the pain dealt by Larsa's words. "You have long known that you keep _hounds_ in your service."

Larsa reached out to grab at the Magister's cape, "Gabranth, that is not what I meant..."

"There is nothing more to be said."

The blonde grabbed his helm from the table and walked briskly to the opening of the labyrinth, intent on getting as far away from the Solidor heir as he possibly could.

"Gabranth listen! There is something you must know! I... I kissed him! I kissed Basch fon Ronsenburg."

Larsa's words stayed Gabranth's steps, and he clenched his fists as a debilitating pain shot through his chest—making it feel like it wanted to burst. "That is... no concern of mine."

"I have done you wrong Gabranth, but know that I love you... truly." The young lord whispered almost inaudibly as he did his best to hold back the tears which threatened to spill over.

"Do you?" It was more an accusation than a question.

"I do."

"And him?"

"He was there for me when no one else was."

"And you would go back to him."

"I was never his."

"And still you kissed him." Gabranth laughed bitterly. The one thing he thought his twin could never have, was again stolen from him. He no longer had his honor, and now he did not have Larsa's love. "The fates have always favoured Basch more than I, you are no different from the rest he has taken from me."

"I was neither his nor yours then." Larsa hissed, anger overriding his guilt.

"Then why kiss him?" Gabranth's voice shook with emotion. He felt angry, hurt, and betrayed—and yet he did not know if he had the right to feel the way he did.

"I... I was..." Larsa held back a sob, "I needed someone—I was in so much pain, for having lost you once. And he was there—he took me in, with open arms and acceptance without fear. I had wanted that—needed it so badly. I just... it just happened. I cannot say I regret it now, because it was real then."

Gabranth knew that he had been the cause of the young lord's despair, of his sadness, and his tears—he knew he deserved this punishment, and still it hurt.

"Knowing that you have him—will you still remain mine?"

"Only if you shall make me yours." Larsa's features were set in a determined expression.

The young lord did not know when he had first asked for it, whether he was in the throes of passion or was in complete hold of his faculties at the time—but one thing was certain, _he wanted it_. However, Gabranth had always given him the same answer, and from the looks of things, this time was no different.

The Judge dropped to one knee in front of the Solidor heir, large hands cupping his boyish face. "Forgive me Lord Larsa, for not having the strength to keep you then, and forgive me now—for I cannot do as you ask. Not yet."

"Why is it that you will not have me? Do you not love me?" Larsa bit his lip in frustration as he pulled Gabranth's hands away from his face. He loved the Judge Magister and he knew that Gabranth felt the same—and yet the Judge refused. Every time he asked, Gabranth would refuse him and Larsa could not understand why.

"I love you, my lord, but trust me when I say you are not yet ready." The blonde murmured against Larsa's turned cheek before placing a soft kiss on the boy's temple. "But I shall... soon. There is no need to hurry."

"Do you promise?" The Solidor heir smiled, wrapping his arms around Gabranth's neck and placing a light kiss on the older man's brow.

"I promise."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Weary and aching from training the new imperial recruits, Gabranth soaked in the Magister's bath. Zargabaath was out on the Alexander on a military campaign, and the blonde could not wait to spend a substantial amount of time alone in there—the hot water did wonders for his tired muscles. Though worn out from an afternoon of intense exercise, Gabranth was more than a little frustrated, emotionally—and sexually. Every time the young lord would ask it of him, Gabranth would be at his wit's end in trying to keep himself at bay. Only honor and duty had kept Larsa's virtue intact. But still, honor and duty did nothing for the Judge Magister's less than honourable needs.

Gabranth grunted as he immersed his head in the frothy water, intent on washing off all sweat and grime from his blonde mane—as well as getting rid of any more impure thoughts that managed to make its way in his consciousness. When he surfaced, he leant back on the marble side of the large bath. Gabranth sighed in contentment as he slid a little lower, half-lidded eyes watching the foam swirl lazily about the surface—the hot water and the warm air was making him drowsy. Fatigue finally winning over, the Magister fell into a light sleep, his head swirling with the promise he was yet to keep.

The sound of splashing and the rippling in the bath water brought Gabranth much too quickly into consciousness and the jerking movement of his neck pained him. Blue eyes wide and back muscles impossibly taut as he reached his right hand out—only to realize he was without his weapons... or any clothes for that matter. The blonde suddenly remembered where he was and allowed a small sigh of relief as he waves his hand at the steam which obscured his vision.

A choked gasp escaped the Judge's lips as he moved away until the marble painfully pressed against his back. Larsa, as naked as the day he was born and with one leg already in the water, was unceremoniously plopping himself in the bath.

"_LORD LARSA?_ What in the name of Ivalice..." Gabranth's words died in his mouth as the young Solidor sat up opposite him in the water, an innocent smile on those pink lips. "Hello Gabranth!" Larsa chirped happily as he stretched his limbs out, unintentionally brushing against the older man's own—making the latter nearly jump out of the bath. The Judge cursed under his breath as a traitorous part of his anatomy had chosen this time to make itself known. He quickly gathered the foam in his arms and let it float about his person in a poor attempt to hide his highly inappropriate reaction to the situation.

Gabranth stared, mouth gaping open without any words coming out as he stared at the young boy. Larsa, on the other hand, looked back at him with an innocent look on his face—obviously unaware of the effect his presence was having on the Judge. For Larsa, a bath was just that—a bath, something one could share at will—it wasn't as if Gabranth had not seen him before. Larsa and Vayne had shared many baths together while talking of many things, modesty was not really a problem when it concerned a bath. However, Gabranth was a hair's breadth away from panicking and bolting out of there, his tongue had died on him and he settled for incredulous staring, uncertain what the young lord was playing at.

"What's wrong Gabranth? My brother and I have shared many baths together—have you not done the same?" Larsa giggled as he made to move closer to the older man. The blonde unconsciously moved away. Of course he had shared countless baths with Basch—hot water was hard to come by in a peasant household and sharing was the norm, it wasn't really an option. Up till recently, the Magister's bath had been communal. Now that there were only two of them left, they had an unspoken agreement to give each one time alone to bathe. This, however, was not the same thing—it was very, very _very_ different.

"Y-y-you shou-shouldn't be here L-Lord Larsa," Gabranth whispered, squirming uncomfortably as he tried desperately to keep his body under control. "Is there something wrong with your bath? I-I could ha—ave it checked... right now would be a good time."

Larsa shook his head, "No no, nothing is wrong with my bath. I just thought of sharing a bath since Zargabaath is out on a campaign—and my lord brother is not one to come in here looking for me. It's just a bath, we aren't doing anything improper." The young boy gave a hearty laugh as he lathered himself with a washcloth soaked in the soapy water. "Please, continue bathing—don't stop on my account Gabranth."

"Still—it is highly improper. Perhaps I should... continue my bath when you've finished yours." The blonde insisted as he stared intently on an invisible spot on the wall. He tried to desperately calm himself enough to actually step out of the bath without making known his predicament.

"By the gods! You have my favourite bath salts in here?" Larsa all but squealed as he moved up and leaned over the blonde to grab at the glass jar on the marble behind him.

Gabranth barely bit back a moan when the young boy's hip brushed lightly against his arousal. Larsa froze, arms still outstretched, the cursed bath salt jar still held by now shivering fingers. The blonde looked mortified as Larsa turned into various shades of crimson.

A curtain of wet, obsidian hair obscured Gabranth's view of Larsa's face as he clutched the salt jar to his chest, scooting to the other end of the bath. There was a long and awkward silence that followed, nothing but the sound of Larsa putting an unhealthy amount of bath salts by the handful into the water could be heard.

"Lord Larsa—" Gabranth began.

"I think I've put enough bath salts in the water. Do you not think so?" Larsa interrupted a little too brusquely as he shoved the jar in the blonde's face, obviously trying to avoid the latter's eyes.

"Yes, I believe so." Gabranth replied as he took the jar from the younger boy, hands overlapping the smaller ones briefly in an unspoken apology.

"Would you...?" Larsa handed the blonde the washcloth he had been holding before he turned around, sweeping his hair to the front to reveal the porcelain skin of his back.

With the voices of his ancestors cursing him ringing in his ears, Gabranth took the cloth and dipped it in the frothy water. The blonde murmured an apology to his forefathers before pressing the wet cloth gently against Larsa's back. The boy responded with a soft sigh as his tense shoulders slowly settled into a more relaxed position. Gabranth slid the cloth lower down Larsa's spine then back up slightly protruding shoulder blades.

The blonde repeated the motion of soaking the cloth, rubbing it up Larsa's back, then down his spine. The temperature in the room suddenly felt like it shot up a few hundred degrees and Gabranth could feel that he was sweating profusely, but he remained where he was—as if mesmerized by the swirling patterns the soapy water made as it ran down smooth, pale skin.

A choked cry made Gabranth look up, and he found Larsa flushed, lower lip caught between his teeth—he highly doubted it was due to the heat. "G-Go on..." The young boy arched into the Judge's touch as he rubbed the wet cloth against Larsa's back. Gabranth swallowed before he placed a light, hesitant kiss on the moist base of the young boy's neck.

"Gabranth..." Larsa breathed hotly as he pressed his back against the Judge's chest, hand guiding Gabranth's own to his chest—sending a shiver down the latter's spine.

"Shall I?" Gabranth asked huskily, though his hand had already made its way around slight shoulders and now rested on a slightly heaving chest.

"Please..." Larsa whispered breathlessly.

The blonde dropped the washcloth into the water and let his hand roam over the wet skin of Larsa's chest. Calloused fingers teased over sensitive nubs, coaxing a soft moan from the boy's mouth. Gabranth bent down and captured Larsa's mouth in a kiss, drinking in the Solidor's soft whimpers as the Judge's hand moved below the water, down the smooth stomach and past the navel till it slid precariously over a narrow hip—waiting.

The boy rolled his head back to rest against the crook of Gabranth's neck, cobalt eyes barely focusing on the man's intense gaze. Gabranth rocked his hips slightly, checking for an adverse reaction from the younger boy, but Larsa only moaned in response.

Larsa suddenly turned unexpectedly, straddling a now surprised Judge Magister. "My Lord...?" Gabranth asked in a shaky voice as he let his hands rest lightly on the boy's hips. Larsa had always preferred Gabranth touching him from the back, not like this—never face to face, and the Judge worried if there was something wrong.

Larsa looked up at Gabranth with an unreadable expression before he looked down and shyly dipped his hand in the water, wrapping slender fingers around the Judge's erection. Gabranth bit back a moan as he stayed the Solidor's hand with his own. "Larsa, don't." The blonde bit out with much difficulty, forgetting his formalities.

Large blue eyes glared back at Gabranth, small fingers tightening their hold on the blonde. "Oh gods...!" The Judge hissed as he released his hold on Larsa's hand and snaked his own into wet, black locks. Gabranth pulled the boy into a kiss, tongue immediately thrusting between pliant lips and into the warm and welcoming wetness of Larsa's mouth. Larsa moaned into the kiss as Gabranth similarly wrapped a calloused hand around his straining erection.

The hesitant and uncertain pace at which Larsa moved his hand along Gabranth's member was driving the man crazy with need. He sped up his strokes on the young lord's erection to show him how he wanted it, smiling slightly as Larsa whimpered, hips thrusting into the tunnel of Gabranth's hand. "G-Gabranth I nggghnn..." Larsa's sentence ended in a moan as Gabranth sucked on an exposed throat, nipping at the pale skin lightly, leaving faint red marks as he went.

The blonde's other hand trailed from onyx locks, down the arched spine, pausing slightly to trace random patterns on the small of Larsa's back. Gabranth laved the head of Larsa's erection with his thumb, making the boy cry out, one arm bracing himself on the Judge's shoulder as he tried to mimic the action with his other hand.

Gabranth's free hand slid even lower until it hovered precariously over the cleft of Larsa's buttocks. Slowly, gently, he ghosted a finger between the pale cheeks. Larsa's eyes snapped open, the hand on Gabranth's erection abruptly stopping its ministrations. "W-will you...?" The boy asked softly as he nodded his consent.

"Only if you let me."

Larsa nodded again before tucking his head under Gabranth's chin, both hands now clutching tightly to the older man's shoulders. Gabranth pushed the tip of his finger gently to the tight ring of muscle, not quite penetrating yet. Larsa whimpered at the slight sting, but shifted his hips to allow the Judge better access.

Gabranth pressed against the ring lightly, gauging the young lord's reaction before plunging the digit into Larsa's entrance. Larsa cried out in pain at the intrusion and his knuckles blanched as he clutched Gabranth's shoulders tight enough to bruise. "I-i-t hur—ts... Gabr—anth—" Larsa choked back a sob which was silenced by Gabranth's lips on his.

"Shhh, love... it will get better." Gabranth cooed softly, not realizing the term of endearment. "Shall I stop?"

Larsa shook his head, not trusting his voice at the moment—thought he pain had faded into a dull sting. Gabranth pushed the digit deeper into the passage until the writhing body above him accepted it entirely. The blonde moaned hotly against the Solidor's feverish skin at the tight heat clenched around his finger.

Gabranth slowly slid the finger out slightly before pushing it in again. A soft moan escaped Larsa's lips as he grew accustomed to the digit inside him. The blonde thrust his finger a little harder, repeating the motion until the young lord was writhing above him.

"Does it feel good?" Gabranth teased as he rubbed against a bundle of nerves within Larsa which sent pleasurable shivers through the boy's body. Larsa moaned wantonly as he pressed harder against the intruding finger, thrusting his arousal into Gabranth's other hand.

"Does it?" The blonde pressed his knuckle against the bundle again, Larsa's unbridled moans and soft pleas bringing him to an impossible state of arousal. "Yes! Oh gods... please..." Larsa begged as one hand returned to stroke the Judge's arousal. Gabranth bit down on his lip at the renewed pleasure, not knowing how much longer he could last with this new-found pleasure.

The blonde removed his hand from Larsa's arousal and grasped the boy's hip to steady him. Larsa mewled at the loss of contact but gasped as he felt another finger slide inside him—the water aiding its entrance. "It—it won't fit..." he managed to gasp out before Gabranth thrust the digits deep inside him.

Larsa threw his head back, lip caught between his teeth as he tried to stifle an obscenely loud moan as the pleasure built up from within. He stroked Gabranth's length at the same pace as the latter's thrusting fingers. The rhythm built up, thrusting, stroking, and pulling in time with each other. Everything was turning into a blur as pleasure flooded Gabranth's senses, making him lose control of the pace.

Larsa moaned into Gabranth's ear, begging for more as he thrust his hips against the blonde's fingers. The young lord bucked almost wildly against Gabranth as he gasped for air. He could see stars behind closed lids and he felt a familiar feeling building up from the pit of his belly.

"Gabranth, I'm so close..." He whimpered helplessly before pressing his lips hard against Gabranth's. The Magister drank in the boy's moans greedily, tongue marking its territory. The fingers inside Larsa brushed against his prostate again, finally sending him over the edge, clenching painfully tight around Gabranth's fingers.

The young lord cried out as he rode the waves of his orgasm. Gabranth came undone soon after, the sound of his name on Larsa's lips in the throes of orgasm and the erratic pace of the boy's hand on his manhood ripped the orgasm through his body.

They rode out the waves of their orgasm together, hands clutching tightly unto slippery skin as the water sloshed about their writhing bodies—a tangled mess of arms and legs. Larsa clung limply to Gabranth's neck, exhausted from their late afternoon activities. Gabranth felt about for the abandoned washcloth and gently ran it over the tired boy's body, before washing himself clean.

"I've never had a bath quite like this before..." Larsa yawned sleepily as he let strong arms lift him out of the water. Giggling slightly as a kiss was pressed to his forehead.

"I should hope not." Gabranth said a little too seriously, earning him a raised eyebrow from the boy in his arms.

"Is this referring to the kiss I shared with Basch?"

"And if it was?"

Larsa kissed the Judge's cheek affectionately, "you are the first—"

"_And only one_." Gabranth finished for him, intent on keeping it that way.

Neither the Empire nor Basch could take Larsa away from him now.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Unbelievably late update, internship turned out to be harder than I expected. -.- I really apologize for the crazy ass delay.

Anyway, another M chapter (rating change is in order now I think)—I don't know if it was done any better than the first. There's a good reason to put it in though, since the next chapter's going to go back to story plot and possible conflict (again)!

Don't worry, I got it a bit planned out, so the next update might come sooner than expected. :)

Thank you to my readers. Cheers!

Seph. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 14 happens on the night of Chapter 13.

**Author's Notes:** A little hurried and not proof-read, so I apologize for the grammatical eyesores.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Basch turned his head towards the fireplace where Vaan was sitting closeby, just in time to see the boy quickly turn his head away—but it was obvious that he had been staring at the Captain. The blonde sighed, Ashe and Penelo had been doing the same thing—looking at him, then quickly turning away when he tried to make eye contact. He knew what they wanted to know, but none of them had the heart to ask him. Instead, the party let an uneasy silence pervade the small room they had rented in Old Archades.

Basche had actually expected Balthier to be forthright about the matter, but the sky pirate had remained quiet—choosing instead to sit on the railing of the veranda overlooking the slums, carelessly loading and re-loading his rifle.

"The Judge Magister they call Gabranth is my twin brother." The Captain finally broke the silence that had reigned over them for weeks. Five heads turned slowly in his direction by the small kitchen table, faces in a uniform look of seriousness. "He is Noah fon Ronsenburg, and I grew up with him in the Republic of Landis. The Empire attacked our home... and I... and I—" Basch broke off, feeling tears well up in his eyes as he recounted his story—it had been too long, but the wounds have long remained unhealed.

Ashe laid a comforting hand on the Captain's shoulder, smiling slightly, encouraging him to continue. The blonde cleared his throat and did so, "after Landis fell, I left for Dalmasca... I—abandoned my ailing mother, as well as Noah. I became the Captain of the Knights of Dalmasca and never heard from my brother again... only rumours that he had gone to Archadia, our mother's homeland. It was only when news broke out of my treachery and betrayal that I knew for certain that Noah was yet alive—I did not expect anyone to believe my innocence... only our mother knew for certain who was who. Our faces were too identical then, and the excuse of conveniently having a king-slayer as a twin was not at all plausible—and so I was kept in a cage in Nalbina, as leverage against the Marquis Ondore. Should he betray the Empire, I was to be exposed to show that he had lied to the people, and thus, ruin his credibility."

"That traitor! He was the one who killed Reks! I want him dead!" Vaan shouted angrily, fists clenched. "As would I! He killed my father... and turned me against you! Forgive me Basch... I had no right—" Ashe whispered, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry too Basch, for ever doubting you!" Vaan scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

The Captain shook his head with a small smile, "I understand your pain and grief, it is not easy to believe my story—not until you have seen Noah and I side by side... as you have."

"The question is—what happens now?" Balthier suddenly interrupted as he now stood by the doorframe leading to the balcony, hip and shoulder pressed against the frame.

"We kill the traitor of course!" The energetic boy chimed.

Penelo slapped him on the back, reprimanding him sternly.

The blonde looked up at the party with sad eyes, "He has wronged me gravely, but I have done the same to him. I abandoned him, my family, and my home—I understand his anger. And though I cannot ask for forgiveness for the offenses he has done to you, I cannot kill Noah—he is still my younger brother."

"Wha-?" Vaan started.

"By a minute... and a half." Basch clarified.

"I see. I cannot promise you anything Basch, my heart is still filled with grief and anger." Ashe said in a hushed voice as she tightened her grip on the blonde's tunic. "But should I do it, I do not expect your forgiveness."

"There is nothing to forgive."

Balthier walked into the room, sitting on the chair across the small table. "Now that that's settled, what do we do with our kidnapped Emperor-ling?"

Penelo hopped to her feet at this, "we have to rescue him! We just have to!"

The sky pirate eyed Basch's reaction carefully, but remained quiet—waiting for the others to voice out their opinions on the matter.

"I also believe that we must rescue the young Emperor." Fran answered, a little less stoic than usual.

"Yes, not with the Emperor Gramis dead with only Vayne at his side." Ashe nodded in agreement.

"Won't we have trouble though? That Judge Magister takes his job very seriously. Very, _very _seriously." Penelo mused out loud, recalling the events of their previous encounter.

"And he is very good at what he does, bested only by his skill on the battlefield—and we wouldn't want to put you through that." The sky pirate leant back on his chair, balancing it on his hind legs before pointing his rifle at Basch then Ashe. "You two will come with Fran and I to the Imperial Castle, Vaan and Penelo—you two shall stay here."

"NO WAY!" Vaan protested violently, unbelieving.

"I will not be left behind! I want to help too!" Penelo cried out, angry at being left out.

"Balthier is right Vaan, Penelo. The Imperial Castle of Archadia is more a fortress than a palace. It would be too dangerous for you both—you are still young. Very capable warriors yes, but children still. There will be no argument on this matter." Basch stated matter-of-factly in a tone that left no room for argument.

Vaan sighed as he sat back down on the floor by the fireplace, turning his back on the group—shoulders sagging in disappointment. Though equally disappointed, Penelo agreed quietly.

The sky pirate gave Basch a wan smile before standing up. "We leave tonight."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"I did not think he was one for late-night strolls in the palace garden... did you?" Balthier whispered cheekily as their small group peered over the hedges which concealed them—four pairs of eyes carefully trailing the movements of the Judge Magister in question.

"I thought you said this was the place least likely to have a Magister on guard!" Ashe hissed under her breath, using all her strength to stop herself from strangling the smug pirate. They had specifically chosen the palace gardens as the point of entry, being—_allegedly—_the least guarded area of the fortress. That proved to be the worst assumption of the night, as they laid eyes on none other than Judge Magister Gabranth, making his way about the gardens—the sound of his armour grating loudly against the dead silence of the night.

"A minor setback. Your powers of perception leave much to be desired, princess." Balthier's smug grin widened even more.

"He wears not his helm. He is not here on guard." Fran observed.

"Indeed." Basche agreed.

"This way." The sky pirate, ever vigilant of the Magister's movements, quickly slipped into the shadows.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Fran lowered herself on the suspended rope just outside a large closed window. "Are you certain that this is the correct room?

"Yes, yes—a thousand times, yes. I am certain Fran." Balthier made a dramatic wave with his hand before handing over the lock picks to the Viera from his spot on the ledge of the roof.

"I feel uneasy about this." Ashe whispered as she surveyed the roof they were perched on. "This does not seem like the wing in the castle where a prince's chamber would be located."

The pirate frowned, "is everyone against me tonight? I am sure of it, now stay down."

Fran quickly picked the lock, surprised at how unsecure it was—she had expected at least grills to be in place in a future Emperor's chamber. All the better for them however, and she eased the window open with her toes before jumping and landing soundlessly on the window ledge. Without waiting for a signal, Balthier slid down next, followed by Ashe and Basch.

"Balthier! I have half a mind to—" Ashe started angrily but Basch silenced her with a hand to her shoulder, reminding her that discovery might cost them their lives.

"What happe—oh by the gods! Balthier!" Basch frowned as he stared at what had caused the princess' outburst.

A familiar helm sat on top of an armour stand by the far end of the room, staring at them with eerily blank eyes. Gabranth.

"It seems we are in the wrong room." Fran dead-panned, though she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Balthier gave a sheepish chuckle. "Well, I suppose even the best sky pirate makes mistakes. No matter, this is, once more, only a minor setback."

"A minor setback? We are in the quarters of Judge Magister Gabranth! We already have one foot in the grave, and if we follow you any further—we would be dead!" Ashe chided, panic slowly creeping up her spine at the thought of encountering the Magister again—they would probably not be so lucky this time.

"Keep your wits about you princess, we must hurry." The sky pirate was suddenly serious, padding through the room without a sound, urging the others to follow.

The party was lucky that there were no imperials patrolling by the Magister's quarters, the corridors leading up to them were also dark and deserted.

Balthier led the way, and it was not long before they were forced into quickly silencing a number of minor imperials and judges.

"They grow in number, we are close." Fran warned as she set another arrow in her longbow. So far, they had avoided detection, but the closer they came to the Solidor heir's chambers—the more imperials there were. It was only a matter of time before they were discovered.

"There, the double doors at the end of this corridor. Fran." Balthier nodded and Fran shot one Judge while Ashe and Balthier quickly rushed at the other. The attack was too swift that neither imperial had the chance to react before the party was upon them.

The pirate expertly picked the lock and slid inside. "Quickly now, we must get out of here before the bodies are discovered—or it will be the death of us."

The four padded into the outer room of Larsa's chambers and made their way to the main doors of the bedchamber. Balthier ran ringed fingers through his cropped hair with an exasperated sigh. "I abhor this kind of lock—I suppose the Empire really does keep their royalty very well protected."

Before anyone else could react, a large sword slid roughly beneath the sky pirate's chin, the blade creating a light cut across his neck. "Indeed it does, Ffamran."

Out of the shadows emerged none other than Judge Magister Gabranth, two swords in hand. One he held against Balthier's throat, the shorter pointed at the others. It surprised the whole group that none of them had seen nor heard the imperial at all.

"Well, it has been a while Gabranth." Balthier forced himself to remain calm as he backed away from the door, signalling for the others to not draw their weapons.

"I should cut you down where you stand. I will give you that mercy."

"We have not come for your mercy! Stand down Magister, we do not intend to leave without Larsa." Ashe hissed, hand tightening on the hilt of her sword.

"I do not intend to let you do the same." Gabranth raised the shorter sword to the princess' throat. "Either by my hand or by the imperials who will soon come—you will fall, disgraced Princess of Dalmasca."

Basch pressed the back of his hand against the blade pointed at Ashe's throat, coaxing the Judge to move it away. "You go too far Noah."

"And you presume too much!" The Magister all but growled as he shifted the blade to his twin's throat, his hand suddenly trembling in his effort to stay it. "I will kill you Basch fon Ronsenburg."

"You cannot keep him here against his will Gabranth." Balthier said matter-of-factly as he backed away from the sword held against him. "He will leave, under your guard or not."

"Until he has dismissed me from his service, Lord Larsa is under my charge!" Gabranth took a step forward, forcing the party to take a step back.

"Noah, we only wish to pro—"

"He is mine to protect, not yours!" The blonde shouted angrily, forgetting where they were, and quickly drew his body into his fighting stance—blue eyes flickering angrily.

Seeing as there was no other way around the situation, the party drew their weapons and engaged the Judge Magister in battle.

The sound of steel clashing angrily against each other rung loudly in the outer chamber—but neither Gabranth nor the others seemed to care anymore. The ringing of metal drowned out the soft click of the lock and the creak that came with it as one of the main chamber doors was pushed open from the inside.

"Gabranth—whatever is... oh gods!" Larsa, all sleep gone from his eyes, stared in wide-eyed horror as his Judge Protector and his friends exchanged blows, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

Not thinking about the indecency of wearing nothing but his night clothes, the young Solidor ran up to the group and tried to wedge himself in the middle of the battle.

"STOP! PLEASE, IN THE NAME OF IVALICE PLEASE STOP THIS MADNESS!" The boy cried, arms outstretched and tears spilling from wide, cobalt eyes—pleading at his protector.

Gabranth quickly withdrew, equally shocked as the rest of the party, but still kept a wary eye on the other group. "Return to your chambers Lord Larsa."

The blonde tried to step forward, but Larsa did not budge.

"My lord, please let me do my duty."

"They are my friends... Gabranth please, give me this."

Gabranth cursed under his breath but conceded. "Pray be quick Lord Larsa, the bodies will be discovered before long." He then turned to the party, "do not be so bold to think that I let you live."

"Twice. You've spared us twice actually." Balthier commented off-handedly, earning him sharp glares from around the chamber.

Larsa looked over to Basch and smiled weakly, "come Basch, there is much I wish to discuss with you."

"Larsa..!" Gabranth hissed before he could stop himself.

The Solidor heir's smile widened slightly as he noticed Gabranth's lack of formalities, but merely shook his head before leading Basch to the main chamber. "I will make haste."

"I must have your word that you will not harm my companions while we discuss the matters at hand." The Dalmascan Captain said firmly, eyes locked with Gabranth's.

"Lord Larsa has my word."

Basch and Larsa nodded to the others before disappearing behind the main chamber's doors.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"This changes nothing between us, you will still be my enemy in the morning." Gabranth pointed his longer sword at the party, his voice was cold and unnerving even without his helm.

The Judge was agitated. It was against his better judgment to let them live, and moreso to allow his twin to be alone with Larsa. He could not overlook the lingering glances, the seemingly inadvertent touches, and the slight lilting of voices between the young lord and the Dalmascan captain, and Gabranth felt a near-uncontrollable urge to impale his brother immediately after he exited Larsa's bedchamber.

"We are still your enemy tonight, and still we came for him." Basch replied with a grave expression.

"Why you wish to die so badly, I do not care to understand."

"Enough." Larsa bit out, slightly annoyed at the constant bickering between the twin brothers. "Basch, Lady Ashe, Fran, and Balthier—I pray for your safe journey. If fates will have it, I will see you again."

The party said their short farewells before disappearing into the shadows, but the Captain lingered slightly longer before likewise turning on his heel to leave.

Once they were out of sight, Gabranth released the breath he did not realize he had been holding. He was so angry and frustrated that he could hardly think straight. His chest tightened, making it suddenly hard to breathe. The Magister clenched and unclenched his fists as he paced about the outer chamber, completely ignoring Larsa who worriedly looked up at him.

The young lord reached out a hand to his protector, "Gabranth... are you—"

Before he could finish, an armoured hand grabbed the Solidor's outstretched one, suddenly pulling close the surprised boy. "No, Lord Larsa. I am not alright. I come here, to guard you—to protect you as is my duty, only to let these people come in and do as they please with your consent! You withhold from me my duty, you shame my position—and you act without regard of your status." The grip on the small hand tightened as the blonde continued his tirade, "And you... just after this afternoon—you deny me my duty, to let _him_ come here. To walk past me and _talk_ behind closed doors. I do not—I cannot... understand."

The Judge Magister dropped Larsa's hand lest he crush it in his irritation and resolved to run his shaking hands through his short blonde hair—a gesture he had not done in a long time. "I must—I must take my leave of you."

Larsa ran up and threw his arms around his Judge Protector in a desperate attempt to stop him. "Gabranth, do not go! Please. Let me explain."

"My judgment is clouded by anger. I must ask that you let me be, Lord Larsa." The blonde's voice sounded distant as he tried his best to gently pry the fragile arms from around his waist.

"Forgive me Gabranth." Larsa whispered into Gabranth's cape, burying his face in the material—desperate to make the man stay. "I was thoughtless in my actions... but I swear to you—I have remained true."

The blonde grit his teeth but did not answer—jealousy easily overriding his reason.

Larsa released his hold on Gabranth, a deep frown suddenly set on his usually boyish face. "You doubt me then?"

"I have had reason to." The blonde hissed in reply.

"That matter is long past! I can do as I please." Larsa shouted angrily, rubbing his hand which Gabranth's armoured grip probably bruised.

"No, you cannot! It is about time you learned that you cannot simply do as you please without thinking of the consequences of your actions!" Gabranth retorted hotly, just as angrily—forgetting himself. "You cannot promise fidelity and still waltz about behind closed doors!"

"So, fidelity entails that you are my master, does it?" Larsa's voice shook with fury. "I'm your possession now, is that it?"

In response, Gabranth cupped Larsa's face roughly, forcing the young lord to look straight into his eyes which had turned almost black with pent-up rage.

"My possession, my lover, my property—I don't care what, as long as you are _mine_, do you not understand?" Gabranth growled in a low voice, his face so close to the Solidor's that his breath ghosted over the other's burning cheek.

Without warning, Larsa clutched at Gabranth's short hair, pulling the blonde strands painfully, and slammed his mouth against the Magister's.

Gabranth pulled back sharply at the assault, a surprised gasp allowing the Solidor to plunder his mouth with a vicious tongue. The Magister moaned involuntarily into the kiss, pulling Larsa closer while the boy ground his hips wantonly against him.

Before Gabranth could deepen the kiss, Larsa pulled away and uncharacteristically snarled at the blonde, cheeks flushed with exertion. "I'm yours aren't I? Then make me yours, Judge Magister. Take me! Take me so that I will remain your property!"

Larsa's fingers fumbled with the ties of his nightshirt as he thrust harder against Gabranth. Pleasure shot up from the blonde's groin in waves, and he could barely control himself. However, with much difficulty, Gabranth managed to clear his head enough to realize that this was not what he wanted. He did not want it to be this way.

"Lord Larsa, stop! Stop this... _stop!_" Gabranth gasped out as he grabbed both of Larsa's wrists, pushing him away, before he shook the boy to bring him back to his senses. Larsa, with dark hair dishevelled, stared back at him with wild eyes.

"So it is _Lord_ Larsa now? What's the matter?" The young Solidor sounded unlike himself, his voice low and near-growling. "You are man enough to claim me as your property but not man enough to bed me? You are _weak_ Judge Magister!" Larsa pulled himself loose, staggering backwards as the blonde released his wrists.

Gabranth reached out for the young lord again, "Lord Larsa, you are not my property..."

"Don't touch me!" Larsa cried out as he pushed the blonde's arms away. "Get out! Just... Just get out Judge Magister!" The young lord shouted as he spun around and marched to the bedroom, slamming the door angrily behind him.

Gabranth stormed out of the chambers, punching an unfortunate vase in his wake—the fragile crystal shattering on the marble floor like a thousand tears.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Lover's spat! :p I wanted to change things a bit—since they can't always be apologizing and loving all the time. I kinda liked how they both lost their temper. I especially enjoyed writing an angry Gabranth, since he's so calm all the time. But yeah—Basch can be a pain. XD I'm rambling—sorry.

Also—the part about Basch being older isn't true. I just made that up. :x

I've got the next chapter pretty much planned out too, so... let's hope for an early update.

Thanks for reading! Cheers!

Seph


	15. Chapter 15

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 15 happens in the Ridorana Cataract, a few days after the events of Chapter 14.

**Author's Notes:** A little hurried and not proof-read, so I apologize for the grammatical eyesores.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Ashe stood frozen before the Sun-Cryst, hesitation suddenly weakening the resolve which brought her there. "King Raithwall stood here. With this sword he cut the Sun-Cryst... and took its power in his hand."

"But you're going to use the sword to destroy the Sun-Cryst. Aren't you, Ashe?" Vaan asked as he walked up behind the princess.

"Don't interrupt me, Vaan." Ashe inhaled deeply as she wielded both the Sword of Kings and the Treaty-Blade.

A fire suddenly broke out, quickly turning into an inferno which spread about the Ridorana Cataract, until the mist surrounding the Sun-Cryst dissipated to nothingness.

The princess took a step forward to the mother of all nethicite, her chest tightening almost painfully as she took step after step—dread filling her heart. _Is this what Rasler would want? Is this what—I want?_

A hazy figure suddenly began to take form before Ashe, she knew it was him, even before the apparition appeared completely. Rasler. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the vision—but this time, it wasn't a vision... he was real! Rasler was truly... here, and everyone could see him!

Basch's throat ran dry, eyes wide at the realization that his _perished_ lord was standing before him. "Lord Rasler?"

However, Ashe continued speaking to the apparition, oblivious everyone else. "You want revenge. You would have me use the stone?"

At this, Rasler offered his hand to Ashe without a word.

"—You would have me destroy the Empire? Is this my duty?" The princess began to tremble, knees weak at the daunting task before her—suddenly uncertain. Tears stung her eyes and lips quivered with emotion as she spoke. "Is this what you want?" A sharp intake of breath.

"I _cannot._"

"Why do you hesitate? Take what is yours." A metallic voice interrupted, followed by measured footfalls by none other than the Judge Magister Gabranth. "The Cryst is a blade. It was meant for you. Wield it! Avenge your father! Yes. It was I who wore Basch's face—who cut down the life of Dalmasca."

With this, the Judge stood squarely before the princess. "Lady Ashe! Your father's murderer is here!"

"You!" Ashe hissed, hate and anger flooding her senses.

"And Reks!" Vaan shouted almost simultaneously.

"I slew your king. I slew your country. Do these deeds not demand vengeance?" Gabranth chose his words carefully, the words slipping through his lips as though he was genuinely asking for death.

The Sword of Kings fell to the stone floor as Ashe gripped the Treaty-Blade tightly in both hands, her whole body trembling with almost uncontrollable rage.

"—Yes. Good! Find your wrath! Take up your sword! Fight, and serve those who died before you!" The Magister growled, swords drawn, and made to strike the Dalmascan princess.

Vaan gaped in surprise, totally defenseless, but the attack was quickly blocked by Reddas.

"A Judge Magister there was... two years past, he took the Midlight Shard and used it, not knowing what he did... and Nabudis was blown away. Cid ordered this of him to learn the Nethicite's true power. That man swore never to let such terrible power be used again. He forsook his Judicer's plate, and his name."

"Judge Zecht!" Gabranth grunted as he roughly pushed the rambling Reddas aside.

Reddas shook his head sadly. "It's been too long, Gabranth. Reach out your hand, Lady Ashe. But remember that which you must grasp is something beyond revenge, something greater than despair. Something beyond our reach. Try as we might, Gabranth, history's chains bind us too tightly."

Gabranth attacked Reddas with his swords, the other man having great difficulty keeping up with the younger Magister's assault. Steel clashed against steel, sparks flying with the strength behind the blows. The years had taken its toll on Reddas and Gabranth, again, shoves him away.

"No, we cannot escape the past. This man is living proof. What is your past, daughter of Dalmasca? Did you not swear revenge? Do the dead not demand it?"

Ashe looked at Rasler who only blinked in return. The prince opened his arms wide for Ashe, but the princess shook her head—tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Rasler. My prince. Our time was short. Yes I know this, you were not the kind to take base revenge!" Ashe raised her sword and slashed through the apparition before her as she wept. "The Rasler I knew is gone."

Rasler opened his mouth to speak, but it was the voice of the Occuria which spoke. "You are our saint, Ashelia B'nargin. You must be the one to straighten history's weave!" The apparition then dissolved into thin air.

"I am no false saint for you to use!" Ashe shouted angrily. "In all Dalmasca's history, not once did we rely on the Dusk Shard. Our people resolved never to use it, though their need might be dire. That was the Dalmasca I wanted back."

The Treaty-Blade joined the Sword of Kings as it clattered to the ground.

"—To use the stone now would be to betray that. I will destroy the Sun-Cryst! I will discard the stone!"

"You claim no need of power? What of your broken kingdom's shame? The dead demand justice!" The Judge Magister barked.

Vaan shook his head. "You're wrong. What would change? I can't help my brother now. My brother's gone. He's dead!"

Ashe held the Nethicite in her hand. "Even with power, we cannot change what has passed. What is done, is done."

"Yet without power, what future can you claim? What good a kingdom you cannot defend?" Gabranth felt anger, frustration, and confusion boiling within him—he could not understand why his hunger for revenge controlled him while others could let it go so easily.

Basch stepped forward, an arm outstretched as if to keep his twin at bay. "Then I will defend Queen and Kingdom both!"

The younger twin scoffed. "Hah! Defend? You? Who failed Landis and Dalmasca? What can shame hope to keep safe? Your shield is shattered! Your oath poison those you would protect!" Gabranth lunged at the party, resentment pumping in his veins as he dealt blow after blow against them.

A short encounter ensued, but Gabranth's rage and lack of focus made him vulnerable, and the party was able to injure him enough to make him back down—temporarily.

"Hear me, Basch. Do not think killing the King-slayer will win you back your honor! When you abandoned home and kin, your name was forever stained with blood!" The Judge Magister jeered angrily as he pulled himself up, though his injuries protested through the sharp pains that shot through his body.

Basche looked at his younger twin with sad eyes, as if begging him to listen. "Aye, this stain is mine to bear. But I will bear it willingly, knowing that I did all that I could... for hope."

"Preen and strut as you like! In the end, we are the same. Blood-thirsting carrion birds, hell-bent on revenge!" Gabranth attacked the party again, but his movements were wild and uncalculated.

His emotions made him careless, and the Magister was again forced to yield. Blue eyes glared angrily at his twin's sad ones. "So you, too, would leave your debts unpaid?"

Finally, Ashe walked up to the Judge Magister, and before anyone could react, slapped the man squarely on the cheek (his helm long discarded in the heat of battle). The sound of the blow resounded in the deathly silence which followed.

"Stop it! Gabranth, know this. My debt for vengeance is left unpaid only because Larsa has asked it of me." Her voice wavered, but she stood firm. "What you have done—what you have taken from me and my kingdom, will _never_ change... and for that I want nothing more than to take your life. But Larsa—"

"Do not dare bring him into this." The Judge warned, hands gripping the hilts of his swords so tightly, they blanched.

"You are only alive now because _he loves you_!" Ashe shouted as he pounded on his Magister plate with an angry fist. "Why can't you understand that Gabranth? I do not want him to go through my pain! Why do you want to die so badly-? You are selfish, Judge Magister! You will have him suffer, if only to regain your honor!"

The onslaught of Ashe's words washed over Gabranth and he stood frozen—dumbfounded at the realization. _...because he—loves me? Selfish... I have been so selfish—I never meant to make him suffer. No, not for the honor I've long lost._ "I—I never meant..." Gabranth could not continue.

"Enough of this! I can bear no more! You disappoint me, Gabranth. He trusted you. When you bared steel against the Princess, you foreswore your obligations to your emperor!" Doctor Cid interrupted brusquely, holding back Gabranth from enduring another fight; in his left hand, he held a Nethicite. "You shame yourself and make mockery of Lord Larsa's trust. You are unfit to serve him as sword or shield. And so _I release you from that service_. Your presence is neither required nor welcome."

Enraged, Gabranth made to attack the old doctor as he walked away, but Basch stopped him with a firm grip on his upper arm.

"Noah." Basch murmured though he could not now look into his twin's eyes. "Larsa... at that time in the castle... he did make a choice."

The Judge turned his head towards his twin.

"He chose you."

Gabranth looked into equally cobalt eyes, but said nothing.

He shrugged the older twin's hold on his arm and walked away.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Larsa waited impatiently at the imperial docks, legs swinging back and forth from the bench where his feet could not touch the ground. Zargabaath had specifically informed him that the airship bearing Gabranth was bound to return to the castle that morning and it was already mid-day—and still nothing.

The young lord leant back and watched as small clouds sailed through the sky—its color painfully reminded him of his Judge Protector's eyes. He frowned. It had been a few days following their huge argument in his chambers and Gabranth had left the day after without any chance of making amends—and the days seemed to go by slower while the blonde was away. Lost in his thoughts, Larsa did not notice as he slowly drifted off into a light sleep.

The young lord woke up in his bed that afternoon—an imperial brought him to his chambers no doubt, after finding the heir of the Empire sleeping in an airship dock bench of all places. Taking only a few moments to make himself presentable, Larsa quickly made his way to the doors of his chambers, intent on finding Gabranth. However, a sharp knock from the outside suggested otherwise.

With a sigh, Larsa opened one of the large double doors. Gabranth stood outside in his armour, but without his helm—an unreadable expression on his face, though he smiled when his eyes fell upon the young lord. "Lord Larsa."

"Gabranth." Larsa breathed as he all but melted into the Judge Magister's arms, not even waiting for the latter to step inside his chambers before doing so.

There were so many things to be said, Larsa had gone over his speech over and over and still found himself at a loss for words as they just stood there in each other's arms. "Gabranth, forgive me..."

"No, it is I who should ask for forgiveness. Forgive me Lord Larsa, it was never my place— to call you mine." Gabranth whispered as he tightened his hold on the boy, refusing to look down into cobalt eyes which were now turned up to him—afraid and confused.

"Gabranth, what are you saying? You know that I—"

"Shh. Let me finish Larsa." The blonde murmured, dropping to his knees, armoured hands cupping Larsa's face as he brought their foreheads together. "For both our sakes."

"I... I have been dismissed from your service." The Magister began, the words stabbed painfully in his mind—their weight almost unbearable. Larsa opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when the blonde begged him with his eyes to listen. "And I have already decided—to accept. My Lord, this is for the both of us... for you. Please underst—"

"No! I do not understand! Gabranth, I am heir to the Empire—I am the one to decide! I can make you stay."

"Why? Why make me stay! I have brought you nothing but pain."

"I've said it a thousand times. Gabranth, I love you." Larsa grips the hands holding his face as he looks at equally blue eyes. "I love you."

The Judge looked away. "For how long? My Lord, you are yet young. My feelings, I can bring to the grave for I have lived my life. I only wish to let you live yours."

"Then let me live it with you by my side!"

"_I cannot._"

"Cannot or _will not_?"

"You will grow up Larsa, and with time you will outgrow _this_—_me—us_. Time will ease your pain as it will mine."

"Never."

"This is the way it must be. My only regret is that I did not spend more time with you Lord Larsa, I would have truly wished that."

Larsa was crying now, tears flowing as he clutched desperately at hands which began to pull away.

"Why? Why now... after giving me so many promises? Why leave me now Gabranth?"

Gabranth swallowed a choked sob, guilt washing over him in waves. "Because I... let myself hope."

"I do not understand."

"Grow up my lord. Become like your father, marry, and be happy. Let me live the rest of my days knowing that I gave the Empire their king." The Judge whispered hoarsely into Larsa's onyx hair, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He pulled the boy tight against his chest, just once more—one more embrace to last him his lifetime. "Be happy Larsa."

"I would leave the Empire for you." The boy sobbed into Gabranth's neck.

"I know, and for this reason I do what I must."

Gabranth closed the distance between them, and their lips met in a chaste kiss. It was a bare brush of lips against lips, but the emotions conveyed through it were almost palpable. The Judge pulled away, but Larsa stopped him—still refusing to let him go.

"Gabranth please.."

"I have decided. My lord, you must let me go. _Larsa_, you must let me go." The blonde pressed a kiss to the boy's tear-stained cheek, wanting nothing more than to erase this bitter memory from his young mind. "Do not make me do this."

"Do what?" Larsa sobbed, believing nothing could hurt more than being left behind again.

"This." Gabranth whispered as he stood up, pulling away one last time before he left—without looking back.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

A little hurried really, but only because the next chapter was running away in my head and I had to catch up to it. O.O

But first, a huge THANK YOU to my readers. :) Special thanks goes to "Swth" for informing me that Noah really is the younger twin! And to "Crispy For A Change", I was really, really overwhelmed by your comment—thank you so much, it was truly inspiring. :)

Also, you may have noticed that the party is already at the Ridorana Cataract, meaning the game story (and this story) is nearing its end. This chapter is actually short, but necessary to bring the game storyline full circle. I hope you guys stick around till then. :)

Classes are suspended today, which is a rare occurrence in law school so I'm taking the opportunity to write the next chapter before it runs away again. Cheers!

Seph


	16. Chapter 16

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 16 happens in a series of episodes spanning five days, starting right after the events of Chapter 15.

**Author's Notes:** This chapter sort of just came to me, so it's different from the rest—I hope I executed it as well as it sounded in my head, which really isn't usually the case with me.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**DAY I**

"_How can I be certain that you will not leave me behind?"_

"_You cannot. You will just have to trust me that I won't."_

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Gabranth was broken—shattered. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to do what he did, and he could not bear to be around Larsa any longer. The young lord was everything he could not possibly hope to have—and still _he had hoped_. For a short time, the best he has had in ages, he had had Larsa as his own... and he could not keep him still.

The Judge dragged his weary body from Larsa's chambers to his own, the grating of his armour unbearable in his ears. He felt anguish, frustration, hatred, despair, but nothing compared to the overwhelming guilt which engulfed him. His young lord did not deserve this pain—if there was any other way, he would have taken twice the heartbreak, but things were not that simple. They never were.

Lost in his thoughts, Gabranth barely noticed the other person which passed him, walking in the opposite direction. He ignored the man, but a painful drawl reached his ears which made his blood freeze in his veins.

"Aah. Done with your last farewells Magister? I should hope so, seeing as I've informed Lord Vayne of your—impending absence."

_Cid._

"I have done so. I take my leave of you, this day has left me weary." Gabranth grunted through clenched teeth, fists trembling at his sides as he willed himself not to cause serious bodily harm to the doctor. The blonde pushed past Cid brusquely, wanting nothing more than to leave everything behind.

_Everything._

"Gabranth, you know that this is for the best. I have done this for-"

"the Empire? Yes, I know Dr. Cid—knowing how you have been so concerned for her well-being." The Magister spat out, sarcasm dripping like venom.

"And his. I know of your feelings Gabranth, and though I do not doubt your intentions—it is not your place to be with him. You of all people should know this." Cid's tone softened, and for a moment—the blonde wanted to believe that the older man truly meant well. "Lord Larsa cannot have both you and the Empire."

"I gave him protection." The blonde bit out.

"And I returned to him his Empire."

Harsh as his words might be, Gabranth knew that Cid was right. It was not his place. _It was never my place to be with him._ He drew his lips taut and said nothing, opting to just walk away—that was one thing he had been considerably good at.

The tears came later, thankfully, when he was in the safety of his own chambers. Gabranth did not even bother to wipe them away as he collapsed under his own weight, the armour's impact dulled by the worn carpet on the ground. The Judge curled up on his side, pulling his knees tight against his chest—something he had not done since he was a child—and cried.

He did not know how long he lay there, weeping like he had never done before—as if all the emotions he had locked up all these years were fighting to burst out of his chest. It was too raw, too painful—and too _real._ "Forgive me... Gods, Lord Larsa—please, forgive me. I love you. I do, I do... I just—forgive me Lord Larsa..." The blonde whispered incoherently as if intoxicated as he slowly fell into a fitful slumber.

A soft, almost muffled knock, woke the Magister—the slightest sound usually did. Gabranth craned his neck to discern who it was, though he did not truly need to wonder who it was. "Larsa." The blonde mouthed silently, as he heard the almost inaudible shifting of weight from one foot to another from outside his room. Even if every nerve in his body screamed for him to open the door, Gabranth knew that doing so would only make it harder for both of them.

And so he lay there, no more than a foot away from the door, curled up like the child that he felt he was—and waited. There was a small part of him which hoped for _something_, but Gabranth steeled his mind. The first night was always the hardest.

The knocking had stopped, but Gabranth knew Larsa still stood outside his door. A soft creak indicated that the boy was leaning against the wood. "Gabranth... I know you are there... and if you can hear me—I just. Gabranth please.. just, just come back. Please come back. I am sorry... I will leave now, but I—I will leave my doors unlocked tonight. I love you."

The Judge slowly raised himself up and pressed himself against the door, if only to tell Larsa that he was there. _I have always been here._

"You will grow up Larsa, and you will realize that this is how it should be."

"I will never outgrow what we have."

"How can I be certain that you will not leave me behind?"

A pause. "You cannot. You will just have to trust me that I won't."

Silence.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**DAY II**

"_Do not keep pushing me away."_

"_I am not—"_

"_I may forget how to return to you."_

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"We may have had our differences Gabranth, but still, your absence will be a damning blow to my army." Vayne Solidor sighed as he rested his forehead on a gloved hand.

Gabranth stood silently on his usual spot behind Vayne's desk, unmoving—though his armour felt impossibly heavy and his helm stifled him. He had not had any sleep, and was spending perhaps the last three or four days turning over his duties before he finally took his leave. This sudden concern from the older Solidor was nothing short of a surprise.

"I am but one man, I have trained many, any of who could fill my place."

"None who will compare. Not with you Gabranth, I assure you."

"Your words flatter me, my lord. I have only done what duty has dictated."

Vayne stood up and poured two tumblers of wine, both half-filled. He took one and offered the other to Gabranth, who refused. The older Solidor looked out of the massive window which stood behind his desk, one which overlooked the capital, as he took a long sip from his drink—as if contemplating what more there is to say. There really was nothing much a Lord and a Judge could talk about beyond duty.

"There is—one thing, which I must ask before you leave the Ministry." Vayne cocked his head to one side, deep-set eyes suddenly narrow—almost piercing the thick steel of Gabranth's helm. "If Larsa were to ask you to stay, would you reconsider?"

Gabranth mentally cursed himself for not foreseeing this, he should have expected it. Instead, his tongue died in his mouth and his throat dried up, making it excruciating to swallow a particularly large lump in his throat.

"No. My mind is set. I have—taken my leave from the young lord's service." His voice cracked, it sounded hollow.

"He did not take it well, I presume."

Gabranth swallowed again. It was as if Vayne was baiting him, drawing him out, testing—_breaking him apart_. "He knows that I do what I must... my lord."

"Indeed. I shall leave you to turn over your duties, you may take your leave." The Solidor waved him off, and Gabranth was never more glad to be dismissed as he was then. He bowed before leaving Vayne's study.

The rest of the day was uneventful, filled with official imperial business and turn-over duties. Gabranth had not realized how much rested on his position, until he had to pass it on to others—perhaps because he never expected to pass them on at all. _I swore to protect him till death, and here I am... binding someone else to my oath. _The blonde shook his head and returned to his work.

Night came and Gabranth was exhausted. He removed his helm and tucked it under an arm as he walked the long corridors back to his chambers. He had not walked two halls down from the training hall before he crossed paths with Lord Larsa himself. Gabranth bowed by instinct, but all the more to avoid having to meet those piercing cobalt eyes which constantly unravelled his years of hard-earned control.

"Lord Larsa." His voice was weak.

The young lord looked up from the parchment he was reading, eyes blank and his face devoid of emotion. "Gabranth."

He nodded before continuing on his way, the coldness of his demeanor made Gabranth's chest ache. It hurt him to receive such treatment, but the Magister knew he deserved every bit of Larsa's hostility.

Larsa suddenly stopped, as did Gabranth.

"Sometimes, I truly do hate you." Larsa whispered, not turning back. "Sometimes, I wish father had never left me in your care. Sometimes... I wonder if I would hurt this much if I never met you."

Gabranth understood, but understanding did not make it less painful.

"Sometimes, I wish your father had let me die in the war."

Larsa bowed his head. "I would—never wish that."

"You would be happy."

"I would be, if you stopped pushing me away."

Silence.

"Do not keep pushing me away."

"I am not—"

"I may forget how to return to you."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**DAY III**

"_This is not something you can just yell at until it goes away—that is not how it works!"_

"_You believe I don't know this? I do."_

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Gabranth frowned, weary from delegating too many of his responsibilities—he had never really noticed how many. There was only one Judge Magister left in the Ministry, and on him, Larsa's safety now depends. Zargabaath.

The search for the older Judge took longer than expected, but Gabranth finally found him by the mouth of the hedge labyrinth in the palace gardens. He approached Zargabaath, helm tucked under his arm—seemingly unable to wear it any longer for extended periods of time.

"Judge Magister Gabranth." Zargabaath broke the uneasy silence between them as he removed his helm in turn, a tired expression on his mature features.

"It is Gabranth now. _Only _Gabranth." The blonde murmured with a nod, suddenly guilty for leaving everything on Zargabaath's shoulders. "Zargabaath, forgive me."

The other Judge shook his head, "no, it is I whom you should forgive."

"Wh—"

Before Gabranth could finish, a heavy blow landed on his cheek—sending him reeling backwards, but he caught himself before he fell to the ground. "Zargabaath, what in Ivalice-!"

However, the older man was not done and he came at the blonde again, helm long discarded. Zargabaath placed another well-placed punch to Gabranth's side, then a knee below the ribs, as he grabbed the blonde's jaw. "Yes, it is _only_ Gabranth now is it?"

"I—" A punch to the jaw.

"—did not—" A kick to the shin.

"—bring him back—" A hand on his throat.

"—for you to do this—" A hand tightening its grip.

"—to him." Pain.

Gabranth struggled with Zargabaath's death-grip on his neck. He had come unarmed, not expecting this kind of encounter at all. "Zar—"

"Silence! Talk with your strength Gabranth. Show me why I should not cut you down where you stand!"

The blonde clenched his teeth as drove his elbow as hard as he could against Zargaabath's Magister plate—knocking the wind out of the latter. "Enough! Zargabaath, stop this madness!"

"Before an army, you are unfazed. Before the young lord, you are naught but a coward." Zargabaath barked as he charged again, but this time, Gabranth was prepared. Blood pumping angrily in his veins, the blonde caught the older Judge's punch midway and countered with one of his own—emotions clouding his better judgment. _I am NOT a coward!_

"Yes! Do you feel anger at the truth Gabranth?" Zargabaath aimed another punch to the blonde's gut, but was quickly parried and was dealt with another to his chest. Blows were exchanged in a heated rush of growls and metal against metal, reason caving under anger—pain manifesting itself in violence—despair turning into strength behind the assault.

"Do not malign my feelings for the young lord!" Gabranth blinked away the blood that dripped down his forehead to his eyes as he poised himself above the older Judge—pinning him down. "You have no right."

"And still, you deny them." Zargabaath croaked out, unfazed as his own blood tricked down his broken nose. He pushed the younger Judge off of him and stood up, wiping the blood with the back of his armoured hand. "Your pride will be your own undoing—and his."

"I am leaving for his sake."

"His sake—or yours?"

"I have no need to explain myself to you." Gabranth hissed as he pulled himself up, body burning from all the damage dealt by the older man. He grabbed his helm from the grass and did his best not to limp back to the castle, though the blood on his face did nothing to conceal his injuries.

No one questioned his current state—no one ever did, and Gabranth was glad for that. He took step after painful step to the castle, only to once again, encounter Lord Larsa. The blonde winced in dismay, he wanted to turn away, go another direction, run if need be—if only to get away. But he could not.

"By the gods, Gabranth! What happened to you?" The young lord asked, alarmed at the Judge Magister's bloody countenance. He tried to lay a hand on the blonde, but the latter flinched and moved his arm away roughly. "It is nothing. Just leave me be." It was said louder than he had intended, almost shouting.

Larsa seethed, hands balling up into fists before he raised his chin defiantly.

"This is not something you can just yell at until it goes away—that is not how it works!"

This was obviously not pertaining to Gabranth's injury. No, it definitely reached far deeper than that.

"You believe I don't know that? I do." Gabranth murmured under his breath, almost inaudible.

But Larsa was already gone.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**DAY IV**

"_Do not make me do something I will regret."_

"_No. Not this time."_

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

The rum drew a burning line down Gabranth's throat as he emptied the tumbler in his hand. He leant back, the chair teetering on its hind legs before he sat back down—elbows resting on the crude wooden table in front of him.

Gabranth was in old Archades—he needed to get out of the palace, away from everything—away from Larsa. It had been ages since he had been to a bar as just a customer, deciding to forego wearing his armour as he would no longer carry the title of Judge Magister in a few days time. The anonymity was comforting. Here, he was no one—not a Judge Magister, not a king-slayer, not anyone—_just a man_.

"Want me to refill that for you?" A busty barmaid winked at Gabranth as she shimmied to his solitary table. "It's on the house." She winked again, taking the blonde's glass before he could protest. The blonde nodded with a small smile, though he looked away quickly.

The girl soon returned with his drink and thanked her. Gabranth opted to sip his drink slowly this time, relishing its heavy flavour on his tongue. It had been a long, long time since he had had something to drink—it was prohibited in the Ministry. It tasted of inexpensive rum, but it was the best he has had in years. The blonde let out a long sigh of relief... he felt—old... and so very exhausted.

"Well, well, well... 'ere's a new face. Haven't seen you from 'round 'ere. Where you from boy? There be respect to be paid 'ere." An unkempt man sat himself on the empty chair on the other side of Gabranth's small table, reeking of cheap alcohol. The other patrons of the bar began to murmur amongst themselves nervously, some leaving in haste.

Gabranth did not look up from his drink. "I do not want any trouble. If there be respects to be paid, consider them paid now."

"Smart talker this 'un, got gil to line 'is pockets, can hear 'em." The man rambled on, looking at the other patrons as he waved his bottle haphazardly before slamming it unto the wooden table. "Now let's make this easy for ye."

"I suggest you get up from my table and leave, _sir_, before I take it upon myself to do so." Gabranth bit out, the glass in his hand visibly shaking from how tightly he was holding it.

"Shakin' in yer boots eh?"

"Enough." The blonde stood up and imposed his towering height over the other man. Though he was without his armour, Gabranth looked menacing enough with his solid build and cold demeanor. "You _will _leave."

"Damn hell I will!" The man snarled as he brought down his bottle on Gabranth—or tried to, as the blonde caught it in his hand, the amber liquid spilling unto the table and splattering all over his trousers. Without his iron control intact, emotions loose from exhaustion and alcohol, Gabranth did what instinct pushed him to do—he punched the man, square in the jaw.

A riot shortly ensued, people running and screaming in panic as the man crashed violently against the wooden floor of the bar. People stared—again, they stared in fear. Gabranth felt sick.

"Anna! Anna! What is going on here, what happe—Noah?" Basch rushed into the chaos inside the bar, only to find his twin in the middle of it, with a bloodied man on the floor. "By the gods Noah, what have you done?"

The barmaid rushed to Basch and embraced him, "Basch... this man, is he-?"

"Yes, his name is Noah." The older twin nodded as he picked the unconscious man up from the floor and followed the barmaid to the backroom, but not before pinning the other blonde with a look. "You will stay where you are Noah, we will speak later."

It was not a request.

Gabranth collapsed bonelessly on his chair and did his best to ignore the scared stares and whispers about him, it was not like he was not used to it—but he had his armour to protect his identity then. Fortunately (or unfortunately, Gabranth could not tell), Basch made his way to his table soon after—his face dark and a deep frown was set in the older twin's features. "Noah—"

"I will not have you lecture me, Basch." The younger one hissed under his breath.

"And I will not have you running chaos in my friend's bar." Basch shot back. "Noah, what happened? Why are you here?"

Gabranth wanted to argue that it was no concern of his, brother or not—but he knew it was futile, Basch was pathetic that way. "I came for a drink. To celebrate—" The younger blonde chose his words carefully. "My _release_ from the Ministry."

"Your release? From the Ministry? Surely you do not mean to say that you left after Dr. Cid dismissed you. I am sure that Larsa would have—"

"You will not talk of him in my presence. You can at least give me that, _brother._" The last word was bit out—pained.

Basch sighed in understanding. "He needs you Noah. You know this as well as I."

"The Empire needs him."

"He can have both."

"He _cannot._" Gabranth gestured to himself. "Look at me, this is what I am! Even without my armour, destruction follows me—destruction_ becomes_ me. I am a hound, Basch. This is what I am and this is all I am ever going to be. _He does not need me_."

"If he did not, he would not be outside looking for you."

"You do not mean..."

"He is outside with the others. We found him wandering Old Archades—he was searching for you."

"You lie."

"No, he does not." Larsa broke in as he entered the now nearly-empty bar. He stood before Gabranth, lips taut and eyes piercing equally blue ones.

"I will ask it of you one last time. Gabranth, will you come back—to me?"

The younger blonde looked at his glass in silence. The tempest of his emotions threatening to spill over. He wanted nothing more than to say yes—to return to Larsa—to return to his love, but he could not. _I cannot._ "Lord Larsa, do not make me do something I will regret."

Without flinching, Larsa turned and walked away, stopping only a few paces from the door.

"No. Not this time."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**DAY V**

"_I do not need you to forgive me. Just look at me. See me."_

"_I—I have forgotten how."_

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Turmoil. That's what it was. That was exactly what it was. The feeling of looking at raven hair, always turned away, always far beyond his reach. Larsa was ignoring him, Gabranth knew. It did not matter asking why, he also knew the answer to that... but still he wished that Larsa would at least _look_ at him. Even with hate, disgust, despair—anything, but not this dead silence that stretched miles between them. It was too much.

The day had gone too quickly, and it was spent with Larsa in one room and Gabranth in another. When Gabranth entered a room Larsa was in, the younger Solidor would find one way or another to leave—without so much as a glance in the Magister's direction. It aggrieved Gabranth, and yet he could do nothing about it. It was part of his decision and he would just have to accept it.

_Time will ease his pain, as it will mine._ Gabranth reminded himself of this over and over if only to get through the day.

_This is to be my last day._

"What was that Gabranth?" Zargabaath looked up from the parchment the younger Judge had handed to him. "What about today?"

Gabranth cursed himself, not realizing that he had said it out loud. But he had to leave now, he could no longer bear what remained between himself and Larsa.

"Today is to be my last day in the Ministry. I am to leave tomorrow." The blonde did his best to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

Zargabaath nodded, sad eyes looking at his friend—if he could call Gabranth that. "I loath to see you go Gabranth. Would you not reconsider? Lord Larsa needs your protection, now more than ever."

"Larsa—the young lord—is in your hands now Zargabaath. I will leave him to no other. Be his sword in dire times, but be that which I could not. Be his shield Zargabaath and protect him. Forgive me, for not having the strength to carry that which is my own."

The older Magister clasped armoured hands with Gabranth in a sign of deep brotherhood. "I shall do my utmost to bear your burden, but it shall remain your own. You must return."

"I cannot." Gabranth murmured more to himself than to the other, as he tried to pull his hands away. "I am unworthy of your trust, but thank you Zargabaath. I shall be forever grateful for this service."

"Give Lord Larsa the farewell he deserves, you can at least give him that."

The blonde sighed. "You are no fool. You have seen there is naught but burnt bridges between us now. Perhaps it is better this way. The more he hates me, the sooner he shall wish to forget."

"Is that his doing or yours?"

"Mine entirely." Gabranth waved Zargabaath off as he made his way back to the castle, not that he had much packing to do. He lived in his armour—and expected to die in it too. He was half-glad he was leaving it behind.

"I still believe you should say farewell the right way!" Zargabaath called out before his voice was carried away by the late afternoon wind.

_Should I?_

Larsa was having the damnedest headache after that afternoon's lesson. It had gotten so bad that he had to ask to be excused from the rest of his lesson if only to be reunited with his bed. Was it the heat? The subject matter? Or was it the fact that he had not slept in days... always watching—waiting if the knob on the doors would turn. It was pathetic.

He nearly ran back to his chambers, burying himself in bed, eyes clenched tightly closed—begging for sleep to claim him. The minutes passed like hours, the pain insistently pounding in his temples like it wanted it to burst. Larsa wanted to just curl up and die. The curling up, he'd done by instinct—the dying part proved to be most problematic.

After four nights of waiting, a knob turned silently, and the door cracks open—just barely.

"Lord Larsa?"

The young lord stiffened and made sure he kept his emotions intact.

The door closed, and there were muffled footsteps on the thick carpet. The bed dipped behind his curled form and Larsa tried his best to even out his breathing, eyes closed in feigned slumber.

Long fingers carded through raven hair, tips barely grazing his scalp, and Larsa willed himself to keep still as the light touch sent shivers down his spine.

"What am I doing here, Larsa?' The low voice above him whispers. "I must be mad."

Larsa wanted to voice out his acquiesce, but opted to remain his ruse. The fingers in his hair seemed to drive the headache away, as it gradually died into a dull sensation at the back of his head. And the voice that sent him into throes of anger, despair, and frustration, slowly brought him peace.

It wasn't fair. At any other time, he would have long ordered the man to get out. He did not want to hear whispered apologies—not for things he would not rectify. Not for the things whispered in the dark that Larsa only half-heard... he wanted to forgive him, he truly did. But like many things he had wanted from Gabranth—

_He could not._

"I cannot." Larsa murmured as he opened his eyes, slowly turning to look up directly at Gabranth's pleading blue eyes. His breathing was shallow now, the deception long abandoned. "I want to forgive you Gabranth, truly, I do. But—doing so will not change the fact that you are leaving—it does not change a thing between us now. I—" Larsa pursed his lips as they began to tremble.

"I am sorry Gabranth, but I cannot forgive you."

Larsa turned away, pulling the sheet over his head to hide himself.

"I do not need you to forgive me. Just _look_ at me. _See me._"

"I—I have forgotten how."

When Larsa woke up the next morning, Gabranth was gone, and he suddenly wished that it had all been just a bad dream.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Whew! Longest chapter to date. Tired me out running after it.

This is very different from how I write my usual chapters, that's because I was inspired by a different work of fiction. Hopefully, the variation wasn't for the worse.

I'm targeting around 20 chapters or maybe less than that, but definitely not more. We are nearing the end. :)

I didn't proof-read and I apologize for grammatical eyesores, but I personally like this chapter.

Again, thank you for taking time to read my story. Till next chapter. Cheers!

Seph


	17. Chapter 17

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 17 happens right after the events of Chapter 16.

**Author's Notes: **Not proof-read so will probably contain a lot of grammatical eyesores. Sorry.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"Should this fight drag on, Rozarria will enter the fray, the defense of Dalmasca as their excuse... and we will have a war between empires." Balthier stated matter-of-factly, his usual calm features set in a deep frown.

Al-Cid, who had invited himself in the manse, nodded in agreement. "Correct. They will bide their time—wait until the Empire has spent itself against the Marquis. But Vayne—he will crush them and the Marquis both between his hands."

"Vayne holds the Dusk Shard no longer. His advantage is lost." Basch interrupted, trying to keep everyone's dwindling hopes up.

"Vayne has advantages enough. He stands on higher ground, and my birds tell me he has awoken something quite large." The Rozarrian shook his head in dismay. "Bahamut, Lord of the Sky. There was a stirring in the mist near Ridorana, I'm told. Bahamut awoke soon after this."

"It was the mist that came before the Cryst was undone. It breathed life into this Bahamut." Fran finally spoke, her voice more quiet than usual. "If Reddas had not stopped it when he did, how much more mist might it have drunk? All went according to Doctor Cid's designs."

Balthier visibly winced at the mention of his father's name, even in death, the old man was still correct it seemed. "Yes, the man's last great accomplishment, I fear. And so it falls to me to put an end to the thing."

Ashe stepped forwards, fists clenched tight at her sides. "Vayne commands Bahamut himself?"

"He comes to Rabanastre." Al-Cid replied grimly.

The princess resolved herself, her body drawn taut as she lifter her head high. "Then I will defend Dalmasca and stop this Bahamut. This is my cha—"

"That's _our_ charge, actually." Vaan interrupted with a smirk, though one could see the serious conviction in his eyes.

"It's our home. It belongs to us all." Penelo finished with just as much fervor.

"And my charge is to hinder and delay this Rozarrian Invasion for as long as is possible. I will do what I can. Ah, yes..." Al-Cid turned and held Ashe's hand in his, squeezing gently. "When this unpleasantness is done, you must come to Rozarria. I will take you to the Ambervale of Clan Margrace. Such things I will show you! Until then, I will be waiting."

The Rozarrian put on his sunglasses and left with as much flourish as he had come, leaving a flustered princess and an exasperated party behind him.

As soon as Vaan stepped out of the Marquis Ondore's residence, one of Reddas' men rushed up to him in nothing short of panic.

"Lo, Vaan! Word from the Resistance! The Imperial Sky Fortress Bahamut is on the attack! This... this could be bad... we have no chance of fighting it from the ground. No, the only way to fight the Bahamut is to go to it... by airship!"

No sooner had he said it before the wind in Rabanastre began to pick up, quickly forming into what looked like a tornado headed straight for the city. The winds grew wild and panic gripped the citizens, causing them to shout and run to the safety of their homes

Vaan rushed back to the residence and the party hastily boarded the Strahl.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"Stop it Lord Brother! Let me go, you are hurting me!" Larsa cried out as he tried to pry his arm away from where Vayne held it in his vice-like grip.

The older heir had literally dragged the youngest Solidor into the Sky Fortress Bahamut, as Larsa flatly refused to take any part in the war.

Vayne tightened his hold all the more as he pinned his younger brother with his steel gaze—gray eyes piercing all of Larsa's defenses. "It is time you learned how it is to _truly_ lead. Learn well, Larsa, that control and honor are earned in the battlefield, _never behind wooden desks._"

Larsa shook his head angrily, tears prickling at his wide cobalt eyes at his brother's words. He had looked up to Vayne, almost as much as he did his father—he had believed in him—trusted him—wanted to be like him... but not like this. "Never like this... Lord Brother, you _cannot_ do this!"

The older Solidor raised a finely-chiselled eyebrow at this. "But _I can_ Larsa. _That_ is the difference between Father and I."

"Make your target the resistance heavy cruiser." An Imperial manning the controls interrupted brusquely.

Vayne cocked his head to one side, looking away from his brother though his hold on him remained. "Our dear Cid? Slain by his son. A common tale of late."

Another Imperial from across the control room nodded in ascent. "Firing solution complete. Sighting is good! Release valves open! The Nethicite is at critical! Main and auxiliary show clear!"

Larsa renewed his struggle with more conviction, there was no way he was going to let his brother go through with this madness. "Put an end to this! They have already surrendered! Lord Brother, please—stop this!" Blue eyes desperately pleaded with cold gray to no avail.

"Let us make of this an offering. One he might see even now."

"The main battery stands ready!"

Larsa grabbed at his brother's hands, clutching tightly—almost frantically. "I beg you!"

Vayne stood unmoved, a mask of cold indifference as he delivered the command.

"Fire."

Larsa watched in wide-eyed horror as the Bahamut shot a cannonball with such force that the Resistance ship across them was obliterated completely—turning into nothing more than a mass of ash and debris. The young lord felt his knees buckle beneath him, the reality of what was truly happening left him weakened. "Lord Brother... why? Why this...?"

"Once they see that there can be no surrender, the Resistance must come at us with all they have." Vayne replied evenly as he released his iron-hold on the younger Solidor's arm, opting instead to cross his arms over his chest—a dangerous stance for all who knew the older heir. "We will answer their attack head-on and_ destroy_ them. Before the eyes of all Rabanastre."

"If you do this, the people will only grow to hate you more." Larsa interjected, though his voice sounded weak and hollow to his own ears.

"And should I pardon them, they will only rise up yet again."

"I do not believe they would. In cooperation lies our hope!" The younger Solidor tried to stand his ground, though it seemed futile. "You are mistaken. You are _wrong_, Lord Brother!"

Vayne again held Larsa's eyes with his own, cold and unyielding—almost cruel in the way they bore down on the younger heir. "_And if I am?_ You had best find the strength you need to correct me then."

A choked sob escaped Larsa's lips at his brother's words—the truth they held hit him harder than any blow ever could. It was true. It _is _true. The younger Solidor knew at the back of his mind that he was powerless to stop his brother's assault—he did not have the strength. He was weak, just as he was helpless. He could not have done anything to have prevented all this.

"_This_ is the path of honor, Larsa." Vayne spoke coolly as he raised his chin slightly higher. "All men of duty know this."

"No... Lord Brother, it is not—it cannot be..." Larsa whispered weakly as he stepped away from his brother, knees almost giving in from under him.

"Father knew this well. Larsa, you cannot remain blind!"

"Father did not want this!" The younger Solidor continued to back away, trying to get as far away from Vayne as he could—his strength draining exponentially.

Vayne shook his head, resting his forehead on gloved fingers as he closed his eyes briefly.

"_Gabranth_ knew this."

Larsa's head shot up at the former Magister's name, emotion suddenly surging in his chest. "Gabranth would never have done this!"

"Why do you think he left you?" Vayne shouted in return, breaking his calm facade. The fear it sent through the room was palpable as Imperials visibly stiffened from where they stood. It was the first time Vayne Solidor lost his temper in the midst of battle.

Larsa ran.

An Imperial made to follow, but Vayne raised a gloved hand stiffly. "Leave him be."

Vayne drew himself to his full height and addressed all the Imperials in the command tower of the Bahamut. "Hear this! Today we write the first page of a new history, _our_ history. Each of you must play his part. Put down this rebellion. For Archadia! We fight!"

Larsa ran away—ran away from the control room—from his brother—from the truth of Gabranth's abandonment. Tears blurred his vision as he ran as fast as he could until his legs could take him no further. The young lord stumbled into an empty storage room and hid himself amongst the supplies, curling himself on his side on the cold metal floor. Larsa closed his eyes, though the tears would not stop falling, cupping his hands to his ears—not wanting to hear the chaos and devastation he was so helpless to prevent. At that moment, Larsa wanted nothing more than to disappear from the face of Ivalice.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

The sound of the metal door sliding open roused Larsa from his shallow sleep, rubbing his eyes which stung from crying himself to sleep on the cold floor of the Bahamut. When the fog cleared, Larsa's eyes went wide in shock, there stood none other than—

"Gabranth."

The name slipped through the young lord's mouth before he could stop himself.

For a moment, the Judge Magister just stood there, armoured and unmoving—bearing down on Larsa's still sprawled form.

Larsa was reeling, thoughts racing and crashing through his mind—emotions losing themselves by the unprecedented event. Back was the pain—the hurt—the confusion—

The _hope._

"Why?" Larsa whispered, lips and voice trembling as he spoke—it was the only word he could get out without losing himself. He wanted to run to the man, throw his arms around him—believe that the last few days had not happened.

_Why have you returned?_

"I have one last duty which I must fulfil as Judge Magister." Gabranth spoke steadily, as if he did not hear Larsa's question.

"Why tell me this? Why come to me now?" Larsa spat out angrily as he stood up, body shaking from pent up frustration and rage. "I have had enough of your _duty! _Enough of your _honor!_ If you must be a Judge Magister, then listen well to the words of your lord—_ leave._ Leave me be, Judge Magister, I neither _need nor want_ your services."

The young lord walked up to the door but was stopped by a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. Larsa tried to shove it away, but Gabranth held firm.

"After that which I must do, I will be a Judge Magister no longer." The Judge continued, fingers pressing slightly harder into the small shoulder. "Perhaps then—"

Gabranth trailed off, wishing the fates that Larsa knew where he was going— because he did not have the heart to ask it directly. The gods would strike him down for what he was asking for.

The anger on Larsa's face melted away at Gabranth's words—_was he asking? Was he saying..._

"When you are no longer a Judge Magister... perhaps then, I may no longer be the heir..." Larsa whispered in realization, raising shaky fingertips to his lips. "Gabranth are you—?"

"Will you come away with me Larsa?" Gabranth finally gathered enough courage to ask directly. If he was to do that which he must, then at least he may do so without any regrets.

Wide cobalt eyes looked up at Gabranth's own, a determined expression on the young lord's face. "Ask it of me, _Noah,_ and I shall answer."

For a moment Gabranth was stunned, unsure what the Solidor heir meant—_did I not just ask?_

Slowly—hesitantly, Gabranth made to remove his helm until he stood there, bare-faced and open. The blonde ran gloved fingers down Larsa's tear-stained cheeks as he bent down to press his forehead against the latter's own, silently asking for forgiveness. For a moment they stood as they were, nothing but the sound of their labored breathing between them.

"Larsa Ferrinas Solidor," Gabranth breathed, barely grazing Larsa's lips with his. "Will you come away with me?"

Larsa beamed—lips curling up, blue eyes filled with happiness as he took the blonde's hand in his.

"I shall, Noah fon Ronsenburg."

The blonde smiled back, albeit hesitantly. "Noah. No one else has called me that in... quite a long time."

"Oh? Perhaps they should." Larsa nodded. "After all, you will be Noah soon—_just_ Noah—as I shall be, _just _Larsa. Yes?"

"I do not believe you can ever be _just _Larsa, my lord."

"I thought we had agreed—"

"Only till after this is over." Gabranth finished with a small squeeze of the hand in his as he straightened up. "After this war is won, I shall come back for you."

"After this war is _stopped_, I shall be waiting." Larsa corrected.

The Judge Magister wore his helm before bowing gracefully, if only for formality—allowing the young lord to exit the storage room first before making his own way out.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

The party ran up to the tower, noticing a lift that would probably take them to the upper-most level, and possibly to Vayne himself. Ashe began to go over the switches before a familiar face emerged from the shadows.

"So you have lived." Basch acknowledged, stepping forward to keep himself between his twin and the other members of his party who had similarly drawn their weapons.

"I am a Judge Magister, even in disgrace. My just reward for aiding the Empire that destroyed my homeland." Gabranth hissed as he, too, moved forward—swords already drawn.

The older twin shook his head sadly, "Gabranth, do not blame yourself anymore..."

"You confound me, Brother! You failed Landis, you failed Dalmasca... all you were to protect! Yet you still hold on to your honor. How?"

"I had someone more important to defend... and defend her I have. How is it that you have survived?" Basch looked at his brother with a strange fondness in identical blue eyes. "Is it not because you defend Lord Larsa?"

"Silence! All was stripped from me! Only hatred for the brother who fled our homeland remains mine!" Gabranth shouted hoarsely as he wielded his swords, prepared for battle. "Tell me! Why do you forsake that which you must hold most precious?"

For a moment Basch was silent, as if in deep thought before he sighed ruefully. "I do as I must, brother—as do you. Or is that not answer enough?"

Without answering, Gabranth charged at his older twin, blinded by anger for not knowing the peace his brother had with himself. He did not understand—and yet, he wanted it... _yearned_ for it—and could not attain it. And so Gabranth did what he did best... he fought. Blow after crushing blow, he dealt to the party who could barely keep him at bay. Metal clashed and sparks flew in a series of swift and heavy attacks—the exchange fuelled by emotions.

"Futile, Basch! Long have I walked in hatred's company. As long as I can curse your name, I shall not be defeated!"

"Then come! Wield your hatred and crush me! I welcome it!" Basch heaved before once more engaging his twin in battled—pumped with renewed vigor from the heat of battle.

Gabranth was feared in the battlefield, renowned for taking down legions by himself—believed to be impossible to take down by a battalion—let alone by six people. However, emotion made Gabranth falter, hesitation caused him to make mistakes. Soon, the party was able to overcome the Judge Magister, finally defeating him.

Gabranth's legs buckled beneath him when he tried to once again draw himself to his fighting stance—internally cursing his body for refusing to respond, nerves protesting against the movement. The younger twin languished where he stood, dropping his right-hand sword—though he found the strength to lift the other to Basch's head.

"Have you your fill of this?"

"I would ask you the same." Basch breathed out, equally spent, but the apparent victor. "Let this end, _Noah._"

Gabranth fell to his knees, body finally giving way—as did his emotions. "I've no right to be called by that name."

"Then live and reclaim it." Basche murmured before leaving his younger brother behind, leading the party to the lift which was to take them to the command tower.

The party soon arrived and was met by none other than Vayne Solidor himself.

"I bid you welcome to my sky fortress, The Bahamut." Vayne spoke with his characteristic arrogance, well hidden by the dignified manner with which he spoke. "I must apologize for my delay in welcoming you aboard my ship. Permit me to ask, who are you? An angel of vengeance? Or perchance, a saint of salvation?"

Ashe strode up to the Solidor, standing straight though he was a good head taller than herself. "I am simply myself. No more and no less. And I want only to be free."

Vayne's lips curled into a cruel smile as he tapped the side of lips with gloved fingers, a habit which set many on edge. No one knew how the older Solidor's mind worked—only that it was as lethal as it was brilliant. "Such a woman is not fit to bear the burden of rule. Weep for Dalmasca, for she is lost." At this, Vayne turned to Larsa who had just returned to the command tower. "Observe well, Larsa. Watch and mark you the suffering of one who must rule, yet lacks the power."

Larsa quickly stepped between the princess and his Lord Brother, standing resolute—as if something inside him had changed. "No. No, Lord Brother." The younger Solidor drew his sword steadily and raised it to Vayne, trying his best to keep his unnerving fear in check. "I will not. Though I lack your power, I will still persist."

Shocked though he was, Vayne remained his composure—giving Larsa nothing more than a slight raise of his brows, but nothing else. "Bold words, child."

"Your lives are forfeit, and your insurgence with them! For good and all, I shall bring your futile attempts at rebellion to an end!" The Solidor heir declared as he drew his weapon—readily engaging the party in battle.

The battle was well-fought, the party nearly falling—yet rising up victorious in the end. Vayne teetered on unsteady feet before he fell gracelessly on the Bahamut's steel floor. Larsa broke off from the party and ran to him—brutal though he was, Vayne was his brother, and only family left.

"Larsa!" Vaan shouted, to keep the young lord from rushing to the fallen Solidor, but the boy would not listen.

As soon as Larsa came too close, a vicious force pulsed from Vayne's body—striking the younger heir down brutally. Before anyone could react, both Solidor heirs were engulfed in a flurry of red mist, streaks of light and energy pulsing and shooting randomly through the command tower, sending pilots and Imperials alike to run for cover.

"Manufacted Nethicite!" Ashe gasped as she held back the others from trying to approach the swirling mass of power which encased Vayne. Vayne, still unconscious, viciously began twisting and contorting in his physical form, like a creature wanting to break free from its bonds.

After his transformation was complete, the older Solidor—in a form which was barely human, began to float upward. Several swords created by his magick appeared, surrounding the battle arena—spinning menacingly. Vayne slowly awakened from his transformation, slowly realizing the great strength which flowed in his new body. "Behold! The power left me by our fallen friend!" He roared in a voice so completely unlike his own.

Gabranth, body screaming for him to desist his ascent, walked up the steps to the battle arena. He looked at Vayne with such intensity it could have ignited the Solidor.

Vayne Novus laughed callously as he turned to the Judge Magister. "Gabranth, you will defend my brother. He will have much need in the hell to follow."

The blonde lifted one of his swords and pointed it at Vayne as he assumed his battle stance. "Yes, I will defend Lord Larsa!"

"The hound strays. Treason bears a price!"

"One I gladly pay!"

"Ivalice will know a new Dynast-King, and man will keep his own history! The tyranny of the gods is ended! We are their puppets no more! The freedom for which we have longed is at hand!"

The final battle against Vayne Novus was brutal, but still they won—though victory was not yet complete. Gabranth charged towards Vayne Novus and struck him with his sword—driving the cold steel though his malformed body. Vayne screamed in pain, drowning out Larsa's own screams for Gabranth to stop as Vaan and the others restrained the young lord.

With little strength he had left, the Novus summoned a Sephira sword with which to strike down the Judge Magister. The sword struck Gabranth's helm violently, the metal partially cracking from the assault. A piece of metal fell away from the helm, revealing the Judge's true face. Unshielded cerulean eyes bore down on Vayne's gray— suddenly unashamed of his identity. Gabranth looked at Vayne Solidor straight in the face—the first time he had done so since he had come into the Archadian Ministry.

"Even a stray has pride!"

Enraged, Vayne Novus unleashed a devastating punch to Gabranth—throwing the Magister violently across the room before he crashed mercilessly against the metal wall of the tower, finally landing in a heap on the floor. Basch rushed to his twin, clasping the latter's hand tightly—willing him to stay alive.

"Noah! No... Live! You must live Noah! Do not give up... please, there is much left for you here!"

Gabranth coughed up blood weakly, losing his grip on his twin's hand. "Here I pay my debt. Forgive me Basch..." A coughing fit wracked the blonde's body and the pain burned through him. "Listen, brother—tell Larsa... tell him—that I am sorry."

"No! Do not be sorry brother! Do not give up!"

Vayne Novus summoned all his Sephira at once to finally strike down and put an end to Gabranth's life. "Burn in hell, Gabranth! The hound who has tainted House Solidor shall be no more!"

The command tower was engulfed in a blinding white light before the Sephira were absorbed with a stone which Larsa held in his trembling hand. "Enough, Lord Brother! I will not let you hurt him further!"

"You are a fool Larsa!" Vayne hissed, before Vaan drove Gabranth's discarded sword through his body. The force of the blow pushed the Solidor out of the battle arena until he fell over the edge with Vaan right behind him, followed by Balthier, Fran, and Ashe.

The battle outside raged on, the mist and the sound of twisting metal ripped through the air—but Larsa could not hear anything beyond Gabranth's labored breathing and his own quiet sobs. He knelt over the Magister's body, his small hands clutching Gabranth's limp one almost painfully. "Gabranth... please—do not do this... it cannot be this way... please, hold on. We'll get help—we will, and everything will be alright... everything will be alright..."

Gabranth did his best to keep conscious, though his resolve was obviously slipping. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy and he could barely keep his eyes open—but he would stay awake—stay alive as long as he could... if only for Larsa. The blonde drew in a painfully deep breath as he tried to raise a hand to the boy's face, but his body did not respond. Gabranth grunted in frustration as he flexed his fingers agitatedly before Larsa, surprisingly, pressed his limp hand to his own wet cheek.

"Larsa... forgive me."

The young lord shook his head, "There is nothing to forgive. You shall live Gabranth, and I shall go with you when you come to take me away. You promised, did you not?" Larsa's frame shook as he cried harder, tears splattering against the damaged metal of Gabranth's Judicer plate. "You promised Noah... I will hold you to that!"

"I am afraid... I have promised you a great many things Larsa." Gabranth whispered hoarsely, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

"Promises you have yet to fulfil..."

"Aye..." The blonde replied weakly before unconsciousness finally claimed him.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Gabranth stirred from unconsciousness and his brows furrowed as he slowly awoke. Basch laid a firm hand on his twin's shoulder when he felt the latter attempt to sit up. "Be at ease Noah, you are safe here. We are on board the Strahl, Balthier's airship."

"I see." The younger twin laid back down, still slightly confused. "But what of Vayne?"

"He died in battle." Basch replied curtly, refusing to speak more on the subject.

"And of Lord Larsa?"

Basch did not miss the concern in his brother's voice and it made him smile. "He is well. Shall I bring him in?"

For a while Gabranth did not speak, he simply laid there—unmoving, staring blankly at the ceiling of the airship as if lost in deep thought. After a few moments, the blonde released a long sigh, turning melancholy eyes at his brother. "Yes, please—if you will."

Basch stood and left the room, only to return much quickly than expected with a flustered Solidor before him. Larsa rushed to Gabranth's side, instinctively taking one hand in both of his as he knelt by where the Magister rested. "Gabranth... I am glad you are awake."

The blonde smiled weakly—he could not bear to show the young lord that he knew his time was short. He could feel it, his life draining from his body which he could barely move—it was almost time. "Basch. Look after Larsa, will you? If House Solidor should crumble, the Empire would fall, and civil war would take us all."

"Gabranth! What are you—"

"I understand." Basch replied solemnly. He, too, knew what his twin meant but said nothing—knowing his brother would resent him if he did.

"Lord Larsa is our last hope." The blonde smiled apologetically as he turned to the Solidor—the last heir of the Empire. "Archadia is in your hands now Lord Larsa."

Larsa felt a sense of dread looming over him as the brothers spoke, until he finally understood what Gabranth meant. Tears made their way down already tear-stained cheeks even before he realized it, though he did not do anything to stop them. "I do not want the Empire! Gabranth—_I want you_. _Only you!_"

Basch excused himself quickly, knowing it was not his place to be there at that crucial moment.

"Do not dare die Gabranth... you cannot..." Larsa broke off into sobs which wracked his small body. He pressed his cheek against the Magister plate as he wept, wanting nothing more than to be as close to the Judge as humanly possible.

Gabranth let the young lord cry, though he was loathe that it was for him that Larsa wept. "I am unworthy... of your tears... cry no more Larsa." Weak hands cupped Larsa's delicate face, thumbs brushing away hot tears. "The Empire needs you now. Larsa, you must be strong..."

"I told you, the Empire is no—"

"The people need you to lead them!" Gabranth coughed with his exertion, but he held the young lord's cobalt gaze. "_You were born for this. Larsa, this is your place_."

Larsa shook his head sadly, "I cannot do it alone. I need you... I am not strong enough. Gabranth, I need you by my side."

"I shall be with you always..." The blonde slid rough fingers down a flushed cheek before resting right above Larsa's frantically beating heart. "Be strong Larsa."

"For you, I shall try." The Solidor heir whispered back before pressing trembling lips to Gabranth's own in a kiss, as if to seal the promise.

Satisfied, Gabranth closed his eyes. He felt tired—so very tired, as if the years of battle and bloodshed had finally caught up to him. Though it was strange... he had always believed he would die in the battlefield in the heat of war, perhaps with a blade through his flesh. Not like this... not—strangely at peace. And at that moment, Gabranth knew he was ready. After so many years of anger and frustration... always searching, always unsatisfied and incomplete—he was finally at peace.

And yet—

Gabranth opened his eyes once more, a small smile gracing his lips. "I love you, Larsa Solidor. Beyond honor, duty, and Empire."

"And I, you." Larsa replied between short sobs—head bowed low, unwilling to meet cerulean eyes which slowly slid closed.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

_**This is not the end!**_

Haha. Sorry this took so long, but I figured I'd end the game story line here so I can write about the events _after_ the game. As you've seen in my spoiler warning, Gabranth will _not_ die, so there's no surprise there (hopefully :p).

I already have the after story in my head and I'll have about one last chapter for that—and another chapter for the epilogue (hint: Larsa won't be a preteen anymore!).

But, the question does remain—now that Larsa is the _only_ heir to the Empire, can they ever be? :)

Thank you for the patience and the nice reviews.

Seph


	18. Chapter 18

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 18 happens a little over a week after the events of Chapter 17. **Rated M.**

**Author's Notes: **Post-game events begin now! Text in _italics_ are flashbacks.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

It was about dusk when Larsa finally entered Gabranth's chambers and straight to the older man's bedside. It had been scarcely more than a week since the battle between the Resistance and the Imperial Army—since his brother Vayne's untimely demise—and since Gabranth had fallen into a coma. He had not woken up since that time in the Strahl, but he was alive—and for Larsa, at least for now, that was enough.

Basch dutifully took Larsa's ceremonial robe before taking his leave. The Solidor nodded at Basch, though his eyes looked upon Gabranth's armour, which the latter wore, with so much sorrow that the blonde had to look away. It was not easy to stand by the young lord's side while pretending to be his twin—but the melancholy with which Larsa looked upon him each time was almost unbearable.

"He is strong your Excellency, he will come back to you." Basch murmured softly as he squeezed the boy's slumped shoulder.

Larsa fought back the tears as he clutched one of Gabranth's hands in his own, noticing for the first time the long scar on his palm. "I wish he would wake sooner... Basch, I fear for him."

"The healers have assured that Noah shall live... but when he will wake, that is up to him." The older twin pressed a large palm on his brother's forehead. "His fever has broken, I believe he will wake soon. He has promised to protect you, did he not?"

Larsa nodded mutely.

"Then he shall. Stubborn though he is, Noah was never one to break his promises." Basch nodded once more as he stepped back. "I shall take my leave of you, Excellency. You have only to call should you need me."

The young lord slid between the sheets, resting his head on Gabranth's chest as he lay sleeping. The steady sound of the blonde's heartbeat was comforting to Larsa, and he soon fell asleep—the exhaustion of his duties finally catching up to him.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"_Your Excellency!" Gabranth, a Judge fresh out of the Imperial Academy, rushed into the Council Chamber. "I bring news of the Empress!"_

_Emperor Gramis quickly dropped the quill he was holding as he abruptly stood up. "Senators, I must ask that this council be suspended." He turned to the young Imperial at the door. "Is it time?"_

_Gabranth nodded, "The midwives say that the Empress is about to give birth."_

_Emperor Gramis left the chamber in uncharacteristic haste, his expression a mixture of apprehension and excitement._

_The hallway of the Empress' chambers was deserted, with only one of the midwives standing outside the large double doors. She frowned upon seeing Gabranth, a Judge, approach the chambers. "The Empress has asked that no Imperials be sent near her chambers while she is to give birth. She sees it ill-fit for men of war to be so near her new-born child."_

_Gabranth gritted his teeth at the insult, intent on showing the midwife her place, but the Emperor stopped him with a gentle hand on his forearm._

"_He is to stay, Matron, Gabranth is to be the guardian of my youngest child."_

"_Your Excellency-!" The blonde started in shock at the Emperor's words. "To be the guardian to an heir of House Solidor is too great an honor for one such as I. I am not worthy."_

"_Indeed he is not! Your Excellency, I beg you reconsider." The elderly woman shook her head in dismay as she cast a disdainful look in Gabranth's direction._

"_My mind is set." Emperor Gramis said firmly. Matron bowed respectfully as she opened one of the doors and lead both Emperor and Judge to the receiving area of the Empress' chambers._

"_Please take a seat your Excellency. I must now attend to the Empress." Matron once again bowed before disappearing into the main bedroom, the heavy door closed behind her with a dull thud._

_The sound of shuffling and the sound of the Empress' muffled cries seeped through the oak doors and Gabranth could see that the Emperor was ill-at-ease. "Fear not, your Excellency. The Empress is strong and has given birth to three healthy princes, she will be well."_

_Emperor Gramis smiled weakly, "Nothing escapes you, Gabranth. I have chosen well. I would not have another look after my child."_

"_I am honoured." Gabranth was about to say something more when the sharp cries from within the chambers escalated to a degree that both Judge and Emperor could hear the Empress too clearly. It was unmistakable to Gabranth's ears, they were the cries of one in excruciating pain._

_The Emperor was on his feet at once as rushed to the doors to the bedchambers. He turned the knob, but it was locked from within. Gabranth asked the Emperor to step back as he knocked on the hardwood with his gauntleted fists—gently at first, but as the cries from within escalated even more, he began pounding on the door. The feeling of cold dread began creeping up his spine and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end._

_There was something wrong._

"_Open this door!" Gabranth shouted through the thick oak as he pounded on it relentlessly. The Emperor was beside himself with worry, the Empress could be heard from within as she wailed and screamed as if in agony. The shuffling from within became even more erratic, but no one from inside seemed to have any intention of opening the door._

"_Your Excellency..."_

"_She will be well Gabranth..." Emperor Gramis whispered as he collapsed weakly unto the couch, rubbing his shaking hands together. "She will be well..."_

_For a moment, the cries died down and Gabranth let himself hope that all was well. However, a piercing scream echoed from within—it was almost chilling in intensity, and it made Gabranth's blood run cold. The Emperor stiffened from where he sat, fingers digging into the upholstery as the wail died down—and there was silence. A cold, dead, silence._

"_No." The Emperor cried out. "My love..." Emperor Gramis once against rushed to the doors to the bedchambers and began turning the knob almost frantically, as if in some sort of panic. "Open this door at once, in the name of the Emperor! I shall have you all hanged! Where is she? Where is my wife!"_

_The door finally clicked open from within, and a midwife stepped out, blood staining the once immaculate white of her dress. Gabranth suddenly felt sick._

_Before any of them could say the word, the Emperor rushed inside the room—the midwife calling uselessly behind him. Gabranth grabbed the midwife roughly by the upper arm as he spun the frightened woman around. "What of the Emperor's child? What happened in there? Speak, woman!"_

_The woman was frantic as she tried to find the right words, "the prince... the prince—we were able to save the prince! But... my lady... the Empress... we couldn't—we tried... truly, we tried—we couldn't!"_

"_What of the Empress? What have you done!" Gabranth demanded angrily, his hold so tight on the woman's arm that she cried out in pain._

"_The Empress has passed! The pregnancy was too difficult for her—we did our best to save them both!" The midwife spat out angrily as she broke free of Gabranth's suddenly lax grasp._

"_GET OUT! GET OUT, ALL OF YOU!" The Emperor's voice echoed from the bedchambers—he had never sounded so terrifying. All the midwives rushed out of the chambers, the smell of blood was heavy in the air. Gabranth knew this smell... it smelled of death._

_The blonde stepped into the main chambers, there was so much blood... the pristine linens on the Empress' bed was stained crimson._

"_Did you not hear what I said? Get out! Get out Judge, or I shall have you executed—along with this child, born out of my beloved's pain and death!" The Emperor howled in an almost menacing manner, his grief overcoming reason. Gabranth swallowed nervously, but did not cease in his approach. He could hear someone sobbing—it was very faint, but he was certain he heard it._

"_Do not harm the young prince! He is your son, your Excellency!"_

"_Never! He is not my son! He is my curse! He is a curse!" Emperor Gramis wheeled around, there was crazed look in his eyes as he suddenly grabbed Gabranth's sword with one hand—a small bundle precariously held in the other. The bundle stirred and the small baby began to cry. "I shall put an end to this!"_

_Gabranth made to grab his sword, but was only able to grasp its blade. He held it tightly, though he felt the cold steel begin to cut through his gauntlets. "Do not do this, your Grace! The Empress would not want you to do this!"_

_Emperor Gramis tried to pull the blade away, but the Judge did not relinquish his hold—though blood began trickling down the cold steel. "Why... why do go against the will of your master!"_

"_Because the Emperor I serve knows that this is not what he truly wants." Gabranth spoke steadily, though the pain in his hand began to shoot up his arm. "I must protect you, your Excellency, even from yourself. This is my duty to the Empire and to House Solidor."_

_The Emperor suddenly felt weary... the Judge's words washed over him, as if calming him down from his frenzy. He dropped the sword and pulled the small bundle close to his chest, for the first time peering into impossibly wide blue eyes. "My love..." Emperor Gramis whispered as tears began to fall down his cheeks. The baby was still crying, but he slowly calmed down into soft sobs._

"_Thank you... Gabranth... I shall forever be grateful." The Emperor sounded more like himself as he gently handed over the young prince to the blonde. "Today, you have proven yourself worthy. From this day forward, I bind you to my son, Larsa, and he shall be bound to you. Protect him from all that I cannot." Emperor Gramis pressed Gabranth's hands to the small bundle. "For now, leave me... to say my farewells."_

_Gabranth bowed dutifully as he accepted the small prince in his arms. The prince—Larsa—looked up at him, large blue eyes, flushed cheeks, and lips set in a pout—a mirror image of the Empress herself. "So I am now bound to you, little prince?"_

_The baby frowned then began to bawl, obviously frightened at the sight of the Judge's helm and his threatening voice through the steel. Gabranth sighed as he exited the Empress' chambers, crying prince in his arms. This was going to need a lot of getting used to._

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Gabranth grunted in his sleep, the first reaction he had had since he lost consciousness. Larsa quickly sat up at the sound and saw the blonde's eyebrows furrow slightly before his face relaxed to its normal blank state. "Gabranth!" Larsa cried out. "I saw it... I know you're there... please! Please wake up!"

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"_A chocobo?" Gabranth frowned as the now 9 year old Solidor heir came up to him. "The Emperor wishes you to learn to ride?"_

"_Indeed he has, Gabranth. He bid me to choose whichever chocobo I want and that you must teach me to ride." Larsa beamed proudly as he followed his Judge protector to the Imperial stables._

_The Judge nodded to the stable-hand who had come out to help them. "The young lord wishes to choose his own chocobo, perhaps the juvenile born the year past? From the plains of Ozmone?" The stable-hand nodded as he disappeared into the barn, emerging a short time later with a small yellow chocobo in tow._

_It was an adorable thing, still quite small for a chocobo, but already taller than a man. Its feathers were still pale yellow and it still had its down. Gabranth approached the chocobo and checked its beak, felt its feathers and its legs. "A healthy juvenile, and very tame—this would be suitable for you, Lord Larsa."_

_Larsa shook his head stubbornly, a frown on his face. "I do not wish to ride a juvenile! I cannot ride a juvenile chocobo to war can I? I want a war chocobo... a large one!"_

_The blonde shook his head in dismay, he knew this was bound to happen. "Get the one from the Tchita Uplands... the large one, if you please." Gabranth addressed the stable-hand, and the latter already knew which chocobo Gabranth was referring to. The Tchita Uplands produced the finest paraders. Very large and very tall, majestic chocobos—born and bred for parading, meaning they never ran, sprinted, or did anything aggressive._

_As expected, the young lord was delighted when the chocobo was brought out and quickly asked the grooms to saddle it. Larsa flatly refused to let Gabranth ride the chocobo behind him, insisting that the Judge ride his own alongside Larsa's chocobo. Gabranth acceded, knowing there was no danger as the parader would only walk at a very slow pace, no matter how much the young lord egged it on._

_The pair was soon having a leisurely stroll about the palace grounds when Larsa let out an exasperated sigh as he dug his heels into his chocobo's sides. "There is something horribly wrong with my chocobo, Gabranth. It will not hasten its pace! Make it go faster!"_

"_I'm afraid I cannot Lord Larsa. The parader will not hasten its pace, not even for me." Gabranth teased as he let out a hearty laugh. Larsa, on the other hand, did not enjoy being tricked and made fun of so he led his chocobo away in a huff—intent on ignoring the Judge till he felt like talking to him again._

_Larsa locked himself in his chambers the rest of the morning, still angry at Gabranth for tricking him. The Judge felt a little guilty for doing so, but his better judgment would not allow the young lord to ride anything other than the juvenile from Ozmone or the Tchita parader—chocobos were in no way easy to mount. Gabranth could remember how many broken bones he had suffered learning to ride on wild chocobos._

"_The stable hands tell me that Larsa has locked himself in his chambers." The Emperor looked up from his paperwork and looked at the Judge before him. "Care to tell me why this is so, Gabranth?"_

"_The young lord wished to ride a war chocobo, your Excellency. I opted for him to ride a Tchita parader... much to his disapproval." Gabranth could not help but feel a bit ridiculous having to explain his actions for a child's tantrum._

"_You have to forgive me for spoiling him so—"_

"_Your Grace!" A groom rushed into the study, a panicked expression on his face. He spared a look at Gabranth before bowing again. "Your honor... the young lord Larsa—! A chocobo has run off with the prince astride!"_

_The Emperor stood up, a familiar fear shooting through him. "Gabranth!"_

"_Be at ease your Excellency, I shall bring him back." The Judge bowed. "I take my leave."_

"_Which one has he taken?" Gabranth walked briskly to the stables, ready to mount Aesir but stopped in front of the now empty stall. "Where is Aesir?"_

_One of the stable-hands rushed up to Gabranth, "Your honor, Lord Larsa has taken your war chocobo! As soon as he was mounted, the beast ran off—the young lord can scarcely brace himself on its back! Pray, you must be quick!"_

_Gabranth cursed under his breath as he ordered another war chocobo be saddled. Aesir was his chocobo, caught and trained by him personally and was raised for war—he did not take well to inexperienced riders and answered only to Gabranth. The Judge mounted the prepared chocobo and set out in the direction pointed to him—if the gods be with him, he would be able to catch up to Aesir, with the young lord still upon him._

_Gabranth had been riding hard for a few minutes when he heard another chocobo fast approaching behind him. "Lord Vayne." The Judge greeted as the Solidor's red chocobo ran alongside his. "I will find my brother and slay the beast. Do not get in my way, Judge." The teenager spurred his mount on and soon disappeared from sight._

_Finally, a black spot appeared in Gabranth's line of vision and he heard the young lord's faint voice from the distance. The Judge urged his chocobo to a sprint until he was within earshot. "Lord Larsa! Hold on tightly! Aesir!"_

_Larsa was crying as he held tightly to the war chocobo's neck, he called out to his Judge protector. "Gabranth please... I am afraid! Please...!" The young lord's grip slipped through Aeris' black feathers, fingers and arms weary from holding on. "I'm slipping!"_

_Gabranth reached out an arm and was able to grab hold of the young lord's sleeve before Aesir bucked suddenly, completely throwing off the Solidor—his sleeve slipping from the Judge's grasp._

"_Father! I have told you not to keep the savage beast in our stables!" Vayne hissed as both heir and Judge stood before the Emperor—the Solidor was nothing short of furious. "Just as you keep this hound in the castle!"_

"_You would do well to hold your tongue, Vayne. I may be your father, but I am Emperor still. My decisions are absolute, or do you question your Emperor?" Gramis stood up to his full height, shooting Vayne a look that quickly silenced the angry teenager._

"_Never. Forgive me, your Excellency. Still, because of this man's beast, Larsa has broken is arm and lays unconscious—this cannot go unpunished!"_

"_What have you to say for yourself, Gabranth? Before I pass sentence."_

_Gabranth removed his helm and tucked it under an arm. "I have no words to excuse my fault, your Excellency." The guilt within the blonde ate at him, so ashamed was he at failing to protect the young lord._

"_And with good reason." Vayne interjected._

"_Enough, Vayne. Leave us." The Emperor dismissed his son, his patience wearing thin._

_The teenager looked at the Judge with contempt before he bowed to his father and took his leave._

_Once alone, Emperor Gramis rested his head on his palm—exhaustion and worry washing over him. "Gabranth, how could you let this happen... Larsa—my son—"_

"_Forgive me, your Grace. Though my words mean nothing..."_

"_The beast shall die. This is your sentence."_

_Gabranth swallowed hard but nodded. "As you will it, your Excellency."_

_Aesir nuzzled Gabranth's hand affectionately as he approached, happy to see a familiar face from where he was chained. The chain clinked as the black chocobo nipped at it, turning beady eyes to the blonde—as if asking to be set free. Gabranth's heart was heavy in his chest as he ran gloved fingers through the shiny black feathers. "Aesir... forgive me."_

_The blonde pressed his forehead against the soft feathers of his mount... tears prickling at his eyes. For him, Aesir was much like him—taken from the wild, an outsider amongst Imperials. "Goodbye Aesir." Gabranth raised a dagger to the chocobo's throat._

"_Gabranth, please stop!" Larsa's voice broke through the silence of the night. Gabranth turned from where he stood, both surprised and relieved to see the young lord awake—though with an arm in a sling. "Lord Larsa—you should not be here."_

"_Nor should I..." The Emperor emerged from the darkness, supporting the young lord as he limped towards the Judge. "And yet here we are."_

"_Your Excellency, my young lord... both of you must not be here." Gabranth whispered hoarsely. "It is... not proper for royalty to be without their cortege in the palace grounds. Moreso, here... where I am to carry out my punishment."_

"_Father please!" Larsa cried out, "tell him!"_

"_Yes, yes... Larsa, you must not be so impatient. It is unbecoming." The Emperor scolded, albeit gently._

"_Gabranth, Larsa told me that he ordered the stable-hands to saddle your chocobo... and that he mounted him without your knowledge and consent. That it was his entire fault that this fate had befallen him... what say you to this?"_

_Gabranth shook his head. "No, your Excellency. I am with fault. Had I not left him... had I not brought Ae—the beast into the Imperial stables—Lord Larsa would not have—"_

_Emperor Gramis raised a hand to silence the Judge. "Gabranth, from the first day I held Larsa in my arms—I bound him to you and you to him as guardian and protector. I asked you to be his shield—to protect him from all... but never for his own wrong doings. This day, my son came to me and confessed his faults while you took the blame without word in your own defense. You have proven to me your loyalty to my house and your love for my son. Kneel, Judge Gabranth."_

_Confused though he was, the blonde followed and knelt before the Emperor and the young lord._

"_As shield and protector of my son, so I ask you now to protect the Empire. Uphold her laws and be swift in justice. Gabranth, you knelt down before me a Judge—rise now, a Magister."_

_The blood was pounding in Gabranth's ears as he heard the Emperor's voice—he could not believe it... was he truly to be a Judge Magister of Archadia? The blonde rose on shaky legs, head still buzzing with confusion, unbelief, and unmasked elation. "Your Excellency... I—I..."_

_Emperor Gramis broke out into a hearty laugh. "Before battle you stand unfazed, before an old man and a child you stand speechless. I am surprised Gabranth."_

"_Gabranth, I have come to apologize for my indiscretion." Larsa finally spoke as he pulled away from his father and limped towards the blonde. "Would you find it in your heart to forgive me, for that which I have done?"_

"_There is nothing to forgive, my lord." Gabranth smiled as he held the boy's upper arm firmly to support him. Larsa clung to him as he turned to look at Aesir. "Do you think... Aesir would find it in his heart to forgive me?"_

"_I am sure he will, Lord Larsa."_

_The Emperor approached the forlorn chocobo and regarded it carefully. "This chocobo... it is not from here is it? Not bred in captivity?"_

"_No, your Grace. I caught him when my mother and I fled from Landis—I trained him... and he has gone with me to every battle since then."_

"_He reminds me very much of you, Gabranth, when I first found you and brought you to the castle." The Emperor smiled fondly. "Young and headstrong, more than willing to prove yourself... yet still brash and careless as youths are."_

"_Shall I grow up like Gabranth, father?" Larsa asked as he looked up at the new Judge Magister. "I would very much like that."_

_Gabranth's smile faltered—his was no life for one such as Larsa. "I am bound to serve, little lord, you were born to lead."_

"_And so he shall, under your protection. I shall hold you to your oath, Judge Magister Gabranth."_

"_With my life, your Excellency."_

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Gabranth stirred in his sleep, eyebrows furrowing once more as his fingers twitched slightly in Larsa's hold. The young lord rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he watched the blonde stir—silently wishing that he would wake up at last. "Gabranth... if you are in there... if you truly do love me, please wake up."

Slowly, the blonde's eyelids fluttered open—blue eyes slowly focusing on the young lord's face above him. "L...Lar—sa...?" Gabranth's voice cracked as he spoke the name weakly.

"I am here Gabranth... always..." Larsa whispered back as he cried into the Judge's neck.

Long arms wound themselves around the young lord's small form and pulled him close. Gabranth took in a deep breath, inhaling as much of Larsa's scent as he could—it had been too long. For a moment they lay there, tangled together in silence, except for the Solidor's soft sobs. Gabranth ran a hand up and down the boys back to comfort him as he pressed a light kiss on the top of Larsa's head.

Larsa suddenly sat up and looked down at Gabranth, eyes staring down at the knight with such intensity the latter had never seen in Larsa's guileless eyes before. "Lord Larsa?"

Before Gabranth could say anything else, Larsa's lips were upon his—firm and demanding, catching the blonde completely by surprise. The Judge tried to slow the boy down, but the young lord pressed harder against him. Larsa's tongue slipped into Gabranth's mouth—hot and needy, and Gabranth was lost. He pulled the young lord on top of him, fingers tangling in onyx hair as he easily dominated the kiss.

Larsa pushed himself up until he was straddling Gabranth's hips, half-lidded blue eyes fluttering closed as he rolled slender hips against the man's quickly growing arousal. Gabranth rolled his head back against the pillows at the sudden surge of pleasure which shot through him and moaned. Warm hands ran over the feverish skin of Gabranth's chest, resting over the well-formed muscles of his abdomen. Larsa was breathing hard, dark strands of hair strewn about his face, wet from sweat—trailing to the hollow of his collar bone.

Gabranth strained himself to sit up and dipped his tongue into the hollow, calloused hands gripping Larsa's slim hips as he grinded desperately against the young lord. Larsa unexpectedly gripped the Judge's shoulders and shoved him back down with surprising strength.

Gabranth landed on his back against the mattress with more force than he expected. Larsa tightened his grip on the blonde's shoulders and pinning him down with his intense blue gaze. Gabranth thrust his hips upwards in growing impatience at their current state of over-dress, but did not attempt to sit up once more.

Satisfied that the Judge would stay down, Larsa straightened himself over Gabranth and began rocking his hips. Gabranth groaned at the friction, hands ghosting over the young lord's thin tunic before literally ripping the fabric apart. Larsa gave a sharp cry of surprise at Gabranth's uncharacteristic force, but paid it no heed as the ruined tunic was pulled off his body.

Larsa's hips had stilled, but his chest was heaving as if he had run for miles.

"I want to feel you, Gabranth." Larsa breathed as he ran an uncertain hand down the blonde's sternum, over the hardened abdomen, before it lingered over the top Gabranth's breeches. A sharp intake of breath gave Larsa his answer without need for words. He undid the already loose laces and slipped his fingers beneath the rough fabric, his eyes not leaving Gabranth's face. The Judge's lips were parted slightly, small puffs of air coming faster as Larsa's fingers trailed lower. His eyes were closed, bet there was no innocence in the expression. There was desire. An unbridled lust. Need. A tightening of features that bordered on pain as Larsa's fingers wrapped tightly around his manhood.

Gabranth's eyes drifted open, locking on Larsa's. A large hand on the boy's wrist stilled the intimate caress. "Lord Larsa—"

"I will not give you up Gabranth. You should know that by now."

Larsa knew that Gabranth understood when the older man released his wrist and thrust up into his hand. The blonde moaned hotly at the touch, burying his head deeper into the pillows as his hips thrust into the tunnel of Larsa's hand. One hand gripped at Larsa's hip while the other dipped into the confines of the Solidor's trousers. A sharp cry of pleasure ripped through Larsa's lips when Gabranth gripped the satin length of his own manhood, stroking the hard flesh.

Larsa moaned and whimpered as he rolled his hips into Gabranth's expert touch, his body felt like it was on fire. The intensity with which Gabranth held his gaze was too much that Larsa turned his head away, suddenly embarrassed by his overwhelming need—but a firm hand on his chin forced him to look back down at the Judge.

"Do not look away from me Lord Larsa."

Larsa forced himself to look back into Gabranth's blue eyes, feeling his embarrassment slowly disappear in the face of unrestrained desire. The young lord braced his arms on either side of Gabranth's head and flexed his back with another groan, thrusting almost madly into the tunnel of heat of the blonde's hand. Gabranth let his head fall back into the mattress and moaned, trembling hands running down the young lord's slick back before rough fingers dug into the sensitive flesh of narrow hips.

Reining in his burning arousal, Gabranth deliberately began to roll his hips, palming both his and Larsa's erections in one hand. Larsa breathed deeply as he thrust harder into Gabranth's touch, grinding his manhood against the other's in a hard, intense rhythm. The Judge moaned behind grit teeth. He had not known that young lord could be so passionate, each thrust hard enough to push them farther up the bed.

Gabranth opened his eyes and was filled with Larsa, body gyrating above him, head thrown back with his lower lip caught between his teeth to temper the moans which he could not completely stifle. The blonde pumped faster and Larsa's head snapped forward, looking him straight in the eye.

"Gabranth. Take me."

Gabranth's fingers dug deeper into Larsa's hip at the demand and he hissed. The pleasure was rising too sharply through his body, and he could not think clearly. But it was not the time... not yet.

"No... not yet." The blonde gasped out with much difficulty as he felt his abdomen tightening and his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Panting hard, Larsa grit his teeth and thrust even harder against the Judge—almost in desperation. "Gods please... Gabranth, I need you."

The boy's rhythm was hard, fast, and persistent. The mere sight of the Solidor heir in the throes of uncontrolled passion was not helping Gabranth's crumbling resolve. Gabranth knew that holding himself back through pure self-discipline would not work a second time.

The blonde sat up and captured the boy's lips in his own, his hand stroking between their sweat-slicked bodies. Larsa cried out when Gabranth sped up his strokes, fingers clutching painfully at the older man's shoulders. Gabranth drank the boy's cries of pleasure as he moaned into his mouth, tongue claiming the welcoming wetness. The blonde lost himself, thrusting and grinding his hips into his palm and against the heat of their undulating bodies. He thrust up again, and again, meeting Larsa thrust for thrust until Larsa was undone, Gabranth's name leaving his lips as white streams splattered on their feverish skin. The blonde grasped the Solidors hips again and grinded up against him until he too soon followed.

For a moment, they lay there in silence—Gabranth was the first to move, feeling the warm body panting hard on top of him. The Judge blinked several times to regain his vision, dispelling the bright flashes which refused to leave. Within moments, the ceiling of his chambers came into focus again.

He looked down at the Solidor heir who looked utterly spent... and embarrassed as he tried his best to bury his onyx head between the crook between Gabranth's neck and shoulder. Smiling affectionately, the blonde pressed a kiss against Larsa's temple and ran long fingers through the now unruly black strands. The boy leaned into the kiss and sighed in contentment.

"Can we stay like this?" Gabranth finally asked.

Larsa sighed as he turned to his side to watch Gabranth's face. "Yes."

"As what? Judge Magister and heir?" The blonde thought bitterly, somehow forgetting that Larsa was the only heir left in House Solidor.

"As Judge Magister and Regent... until I come of age."

There was a terse silence which followed. Gabranth ran his fingers through matted onyx hair as he pushed it back from the boy's face. "You deserve so much more than this."

Larsa remained silent as he looked at Gabranth carefully. "I cannot come away with you... nor be just Larsa..."

Gabranth closed his eyes.

"But I will ask—no, beg—for you to stay." Larsa cupped Gabranth's face in his hands, thumbs brushing wayward tears that had begun to fall down sun-tanned cheeks. "Stay with me, Gabranth. Run away from me no longer."

The Judge opened his eyes and looked at Larsa's earnest face. The emotion reflected in Larsa's eyes was almost too much, but Gabranth took it all in, he would not turn away from Larsa again. Among the conflicting emotions within him was a questioning apprehension that pulled at heartstrings he never knew he had. How long did he have with his young lord before Larsa grew up?

Gabranth shook his head and smiled sadly. If he could have this, if only for a little while, he would have given up the world.

"Then I shall stay, as long as you will have me."

"Then I will have you forever."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

1 more chapter left before the Epilogue. :)

Thank you for reading!

Reviews are always much appreciated.

Cheers!


	19. Chapter 19

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 19 happens a year after the game (actual game epilogue timeline).

**Author's Notes: **Just the usual apology for grammatical eyesores. Please do enjoy. :)

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

_It's hard to believe a year has passed so quickly. Rabanastre is finally back to the way it was. Like when my parents were still alive. We've lost so much. But I think it's important to put the past behind us and keep our eyes on the road ahead._

Larsa felt a small smile tug on his lips as he read Penelo's letter—though he was also filled with a sense of longing for the great adventure they all once shared. Penelo's letters were always a relief and a comfort to read after days upon days of tedious paperwork, but they were also a grim reminder of the freedom he was not allowed to experience.

_Ashe's coronation is next month. She grows farther and farther away from us... but I guess that's how it has to be. She is Queen now, after all. _

"Queen... hm. Does not make much difference from Lord Regent, does it?" Larsa spoke to himself ruefully as he closed his eyes in deep thought. It was a little hard to believe that a year had already passed, everything had happened so quickly—there was scarcely any time for Larsa to take everything in. One moment he was the fourth son, the next he was Lord Regent to the Empire... had it not been for the exigencies of the situation, Larsa would have been overwhelmed. However, a year into the events and the toll of the circumstances began to wear the young lord thin—like spreading butter over too much bread. Larsa sighed, looking back at the letter.

_I am looking forward to seeing you at the ceremony._

A Judge Magister entered the Lord Regent's study, bowing slightly before taking off his helm. "You called, my lord?"

Larsa handed over the letter to Basch, leaning back in his chair as the older man continued reading it aloud.

_How is Basch? I know he went with you to Archades "to further the cause of peace in Ivalice"... but still, I hope he comes back to Rabanastre, and Ashe, soon. She has to keep up appearances now, so she would never say it... but I think she misses him._

"So the Lady Ashe misses her knight in shining armour. Perhaps it is time I returned you to her service—I have kept you long enough, Basch." Larsa smiled good-naturedly at the Dalmascan, though his eyes betrayed the apprehension that had begun to churn in the pit of his stomach.

Basch eyed the young regent carefully, not missing the flash of unmasked trepidation which Larsa tried desperately to shield. "The Lady Ashe is not the only one who has to keep up appearances now, so it seems."

"Basch..."

"I am no fool, Lord Larsa. I see the great extent of your effort to keep him at arm's length. I know it is not easy to be Lord Regent at so young an age... but my lord, pushing Noah away will not lighten your burden."

"You do not understand! I—"

"I see how you drift apart—as the Lady Ashe does from her friends. But it should not be the same with you. There is no need for keeping up appearances with Noah... I know he misses you greatly."

Larsa closed his mouth, his resolve crumbling under the assault. It was true... he had been so afraid of bringing duty and Empire into their relationship that he had ended up isolating Noah—pushing him away in the false belief that this was for the better. In the end, here he was—keeping up appearances with the one person he had no need to do so.

"I had not known... I just thought that—I did not want him to feel as if he was holding me back... I just..." Larsa trailed off as his lower lip trembled to contain the sobs which threatened to escape. "I want him back, Basch. I miss him terribly."

Basch looked at the helmet he had left on the wooden desk and smiled. "He was never gone, Lord Regent, you need only look."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"I believe an explanation is in order." Gabranth announced as he leant on the doorframe of his older twin's doorway. "I am waiting, brother."

Basch looked over his shoulder, hands not ceasing as they folded his garments carefully. "Explanation for what, Noah?"

Gabranth did not miss the slight lilt at the end of Basch's question, a definite indication that the latter was drawing him out. He bit his lip as he crossed his arms across his chest. "_Your_ armour is in my chambers. I would like to know what it is doing there." And taking note of what his older brother was doing, the blonde added, "I would also like to know what you are doing."

Basch stopped from his folding and turned to look at his brother, an expression of mirth on his face. "As I recall, it is _your_ armour—and I see little reason for you to question why I have returned something which belongs to you. It is only proper that I do so."

"Do not toy with me, brother!" The blonde huffed impatiently as he walked over and sat on Basch's neatly folded garments. "Tell me."

"Very mature, Noah." Basch shook his head as he tried to push the other blonde off his bed but the other did not so much as budge. Realizing that his struggle was futile, Basch took a seat on his bed—next to his twin, suddenly serious.

"I am to leave for Rabanastre the day after tomorrow. Lord Larsa—the Lord Regent and I have come to an agreement that it is time for me to resume my proper place, by the Lady Ashe's side."

Gabranth raised an eyebrow at this. "Your proper place? And who was it that told you that it is your proper place to stand by the Lady Ashe?"

"My heart."

The younger twin snorted, waiting for some sign that it was a jest—but Basch remained serious. "Your heart? This folly is unlike you, brother."

"No, not folly." Basch stood up and began gathering his belongings and putting them inside a pack. "I have followed my heart this far, it has not lead me wrong. Call me the fallen knight of fallen kingdoms, but I have not been lead astray."

"I do not understand you."

"Tell me, Noah. What does your heart tell you?"

Gabranth shook his head as he rested it between his hands resignedly. "Nothing that honor and duty would allow."

"What your heart tells you... and what honor and duty require of you—are they mutually exclusive?"

"Surely you do not suggest. Brother, Larsa is Lord Regent!"

"Where is your place, Noah?" Basch gripped his younger twin's tunic tightly, his tone, fierce.

With equal fire, Gabranth stood up and glared at his brother, fists balled in the other's tunic. "By Larsa's side, may he be Lord, Regent, or Emperor!"

"Then take it! I am done playing roles which are not mine to play!" Basch released his grip as he resumed packing.

With a smile, Gabranth sprawled himself over his brother's belongings on the bed, head resting on an arm propped up on one elbow. "I take it you found it difficult protecting the Lord Regent?"

"Not as difficult as loving him, I would imagine." Basch laughed at his twin's flabbergasted expression as the latter rolled over and hid his quickly reddening face.

"Well. It is best that I go now." Gabranth abruptly stood up, still refusing to meet his brother's amused gaze. "It would not do well for the Lord Regent to be without his Judge Protector."

"Indeed." Basch grasped one of Gabranth's hands in his, slipping a small object into it. "I shall see you at the coronation, Noah."

Puzzled though he was, Gabranth accepted the small object. "Aye, I shall see you then."

On the way back to his chambers, the blonde opened his hand and saw a small, delicate ring in the middle of his scarred palm. "Mother's wedding ring." Gabranth whispered to himself as he broke out into genuine laughter. "You are impossible, brother."

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

_**The night before leaving Archadia, three days before Ashe's coronation...**_

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"Lord Regent." Gabranth greeted as he entered Larsa's chambers, the title still felt strange rolling off his tongue.

Larsa quickly put down the book he was reading and beamed up at the blonde. "Gabranth, you've come! I thought we had agreed it is to be Larsa when we are alone... _just _Larsa. Or have you forgotten?"

The blonde removed his helm and placed it on the mantelpiece as he approached the young regent, locking the doors behind him. "Forgive me, _Larsa_, formalities stick to me much like bad habits—very hard to break."

"Is that so, Judge Magister?" Larsa smiled coyly as he reached up to Gabranth and began unclasping the cape from his armour. "It did not seem the case, last night..."

Gabranth raised his brows at Larsa's innuendo, but allowed himself a smile as he discarded his gauntlets and began unhinging his Judicer's plate. "I do not seem to remember, perhaps I need..." The cape fluttered to the floor, followed by the magister plate, then greaves, and boots. "A bit of reminding?"

The Judge lifted Larsa easily and laid him on the bed, hovering over the boy for a moment. Larsa looked up at Gabranth, small hands reaching up to cup the older man's face as he raised himself slightly to kiss him. Larsa's kisses were always innocent—soft, delicate, and unassuming.

Gabranth pulled back and spooned Larsa from behind, drawing the small boy tightly against his chest. The Solidor sighed in contentment as he pressed back against the reassuring warmth of his Judge Magister, entwining his fingers with Gabranth's own. They stayed in their embrace, only the sound of their quiet breathing between them in comfortable silence—a rare comfort for both.

"I am... truly glad we are alright again, Gabranth." Larsa breathed as he raised his head to nuzzle beneath the older man's chin.

"As am I..." The blonde replied as he planted a light kiss on the boy's hair. "Larsa, for—"

"No." Larsa quickly cut the Magister off as he turned around, his head now tucked under Gabranth's chin. "It is I who should apologize, Gabranth. I had not known how my actions have hurt you..."

"There is nothing to forgive." Strong arms tightened around Larsa's small form as he was drawn into an embrace. "I have said it before, and I shall say it again. I am yours as long as you shall have me."

Larsa trailed a finger lightly down the blonde's throat and lower still, between the gap in his half-opened tunic, until the digit pressed against the cool metal of the small ring which hung on the thin chain around Gabranth's neck. Larsa had noticed that Gabranth had begun wearing it less than a month ago, but never had the courage to ask—though his heart always ached at the sight of it.

_A wife? A former lover? A childhood sweetheart?_

Larsa shook his head to drive the pervasive thoughts away. Gabranth was his now, was he not? He was to be with him always. Gabranth had given his word. Pushing his fears aside, Larsa pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the hollow of the blonde's throat, making Gabranth gasp in surprise. Though caught off-guard, the Judge did not protest as soft lips trailed up, feather-light kisses dancing upon his own.

"And I am yours, Gabranth, if you shall have me."

It was the only warning Larsa was going to give the blonde. If Gabranth wanted to stop him, now was the time, before he ended up ruining the moment—again. But Gabranth did not pull away, not when Larsa's mouth met his in another kiss, firmer this time. There was only slight hesitation before Gabranth responded, lips softening and mouth gasping open slightly, rolling them over gently so that he hovered above Larsa. Gabranth did not let the chance pass him by, there had been too much of that. Rough, calloused fingers slid up into dark hair, his fingers tangling in that warmth and using it to draw Larsa's mouth closer.

Gabranth had taken his chance, daring to cross the line he had so stubbornly placed between them. Now he was asking for confirmation—that he had not misunderstood; that Larsa wanted him as much as he did—that this was at least part of what the young regent had hoped to receive from him. Larsa parted his lips, working his mouth against the Judge's in gentle invitation. Gabranth sank into that invitation with a sigh that sounded as if a huge weight was lifted from his chest. Gabranth could not stop himself—for the first time in a long while, he did not want to stop himself, from meeting the young lord halfway to sliding into Larsa's mouth, into the addicting sweetness that was the Solidor.

Neither heard the sharp knocking on the double doors over the ringing in their ears before a distinct voice broke through their heated consciousness.

"Lord Regent, your Grace! Forgive my intrusion. It is Maester Pycelle. There is an important matter which must be discussed at once before your departure."

Gabranth froze, his arms still braced on either side of the young lord's head. Larsa looked up with equally wide eyes as he bit his lip, a healthy blush rising to his cheeks. The young lord spared a look at the double doors, thankful that they were locked and more than half wishing that the Grand Maester would think he was resting and leave. For a tense moment, neither spoke—holding their breaths as if the slightest sound would give them away. A minute had passed when Gabranth dipped his head again to plant another kiss on Larsa's lips before another series of sharp knocks assaulted the oaken doors.

Gabranth rolled off the young lord and lay on his back, running tense fingers through his clipped blonde hair. Larsa laid a hand gently on Gabranth's chest with an apologetic look on his face as he got up and tried to fix himself best he could. "I am sorry. This will not take long."

Larsa cracked open the chamber doors slightly, so slight was the opening that the elderly council member could scarcely see more than half of the Lord Regent. "Yes, Grand Maester? What matter must I look into at this hour?" Larsa tried to sound normal, though he felt like he had run for miles.

Maester Pycelle gave the lord regent a quizzical look, but decided to pay no mind to the regent's questionable behaviour. "Ah, yes, yes. It seems you have not left someone to take your stead whilst on your State visit to Dalmasca. We must set that appointment at once, Lord Regent. Shall I summon the small council?"

"No, no..." Larsa quickly put in, intent on not leaving his chambers—and a half-undressed Judge Magister in the middle of... something. "I will make the appointment now. Judge Magister Zargabaath is to take care of things in my absence. Will that be all, Grand Maester?"

The old man opened his mouth as if to say something more, but decided against it—it was probably not a good time. "No... that will be all on my part Lord Regent." Maester Pycelle bowed respectfully before he took his leave. "Rest you well, young lord, it seems you are in great need of it."

Larsa quickly locked the door behind him as he returned to the bed and to the waiting Judge Magister. Without a word, Gabranth's hand came up, cupping the back of Larsa's head as his other arm wrapped around the boy's body to close the small distance that still separated them. If there had been doubt before, there was none now; their bodies clearly betraying their desire for one another. Gabranth's erection found friction against Larsa's hip and he gasped, pulling away from the kiss. He rested his forehead against Larsa's as he ground against him, almost unable to breathe as the pleasure coursed through him. Sliding his cheek against Larsa's, Gabranth pulled the earring he found into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, refusing to release it until he earned a soft, drawn out moan.

"Lord Regent! Forgive the lateness of the hour, but there are pressing concerns which must be settled before you leave."

Gabranth's hips stilled at the voice beyond the door and he sighed. This was not turning out the way it was supposed to. Larsa chewed on his lower lip as he looked at the locked doors over his shoulder, panting and still out of breath. "Perhaps I shouldn't..."

"No, you should." Gabranth decided as he gave the young regent a gently kiss on the lips, pulling Larsa off him and smoothening his rumpled tunic. "I will be alright."

"But Gabranth... I—"

"Your Grace?" The unmistakable voice of the Treasury Maester asked through the oak.

A frown settled on Larsa's features as he again proceeded to the doors and cracked one open to peer outside. "Maester Lewyn, what concerns must I settle at this hour?"

Archadia's Master of Coin looked up from his records and noted the Lord Regent's dishevelled appearance, but decided not to take heed of it. "Your Grace, the cost of the Royal Visit is yet to be confirmed... as well as the Empire's tribute to the Lady Ashe on her coronation. Perhaps fifteen million gil in gold? Or would the Lady Ashe prefer an airship from the Imperial Fleet? No? Perhaps a set of diamonds from our finest jewellers... which would amount to... Let me see..." Maester Lewyn began mentally computing the costs, much to Larsa's annoyance. Normally this sort of thing did not bother him in the least... but he was not in the most normal of situations at that moment.

"Maester... I trust your best judgment in these matters." Larsa started as he rubbed his temples to rid the oncoming headache. "I am truly, very tired... and I wish to retire early this evening. You must forgive me for not settling these matters earlier."

The treasurer stopped his mental computations and took pity on the young regent. He smiled understandingly as he tucked his parchments under an arm before bowing graciously. "Of course, your Grace. I shall see to it that the tribute is prepared by tomorrow. Rest you well."

Larsa had scarcely taken two steps from locking the doors when another sharp knock interrupted his return to the bed. The boy gave an exasperated sigh as he threw Gabranth another apologetic look. For the third time that evening, Larsa cracked open the door to his chambers.

"Zargabaath, what brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

The Judge Magister bowed, helm tucked under an arm. "Your Excellency, about your Royal Visit to Rabanastre... shall I send the Alexander and the 12th Fleet with you?"

Larsa shook his head, but smiled at the older Judge's fatherly concern. "The Alexander is our finest warship, I would not want Rabanastre in a panic at the mere sight of it. Perhaps the light class carrier Shiva will do... and no more than twenty Imperials."

"Twenty? Your Excellency, that is much too few. As Maester of Defense of Archadia, I cannot let you go with such lax security!" Zargabaath looked scandalized at the mere suggestion. "I will send a hundred of my best soldiers and no less." The Judge's tone left no room for argument.

"Perhaps you've forgotten that Judge Magister Gabranth is accompanying me as well."

"I have already noted the fact, Lord Regent." Zargabaath replied with a fond smile. "That is why I have assigned only a hundred and not the whole 12th Fleet."

"I am honoured by your concern, thank you Zargabaath."

"Ah yes, I have almost forgotten. The small council has gathered to discuss a few urgent matters and your presence is requested." The Judge looked at Larsa's frown. "But perhaps I may convince them to reconvene after your visit?"

Larsa looked over his shoulder to where Gabranth had sat up on one side of the bed. The blonde nodded his ascent to the boy's silent question.

"I shall make haste to prepare. I shall meet you with the council in a short while. Thank you, you may take your leave Zargabaath."

Gabranth met Larsa halfway back to the bed and lifted the boy in his arms, lips pressing gently against Larsa's own.

"Forgive me, Gabranth. There is just so much that need be done..." Larsa sighed into Gabranth's shoulder as he let himself be held just a while longer.

"I understand, Larsa." Gabranth smiled as he helped the young regent into his more formal garb. "Only too well."

The blonde took note of the ever-deepening frown on Larsa's lips and he kissed the boy again. "There will be time enough for us soon."

Larsa allowed himself a small smile as he watched the Judge meticulously put on his armour, not missing the way the blonde held the small ring for a moment before slipping it beneath his tunic, followed by the hinging of his Judicer's plate. The boy tore his eyes away, the familiar feeling of jealousy bubbling up in his chest.

Gabranth kissed Larsa one last time before he put on his helm, opening the door to let the Solidor exit first.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Yes, I shamelessly ripped Maester Pycelle and all other references to the small council from the Game of Thrones. Haha.

I had to cut this chapter into two parts because I didn't want the scenes to jump from Archadia to Dalmasca, and it was getting too long for its own good.

Poor Gabranth!

Part two will be up shortly. Till then, enjoy!

Seph


	20. Chapter 20

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **Chapter 20 happens the day after Chapter 19.

**Author's Notes: **Just the usual apology for grammatical eyesores. Please do enjoy. :)

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Vaan whistled as he watched the Shiva dock at the West Gate Aerodome, along with more than a handful of Rabanastran on-lookers. "Looks like Larsa brought his whole army with him, eh Penelo?"

Penelo looked up from the goods she had carried out from their airship and laughed. "I'm just glad he had enough sense not to bring the Alexander or else Ashe would have a riot on her hands—on her coronation too, of all days!"

Dalmascan knights exited from the West Gate and waited by the Aerodome's entrance, lead by none other than Basch himself.

"Vaan, Penelo. The Lady Ashe will be very pleased to know that you have come. She was worried when she received no reply from you both." The Captain greeted from atop his chocobo.

"Being sky pirates, it's hard to keep track of the mail!" Vaan said proudly as he puffed his chest out slightly. "But we wouldn't miss Ashe's coronation for anything. It's all Penelo's been blabbing about since last month!"

Penelo slapped Vaan's arm and was about to say something when more than a dozen mounted Imperials emerged from the Aerodome.

"Well, someone knows how to make an entrance." A voice from behind the new sky pirates made them both jump in surprise before breaking out into wide smiles.

"Balthier! You've come!" Penelo chirped as she regarded the smug sky pirate. "Fran! You came too! I missed you both!" The Viera smiled warmly at the pair. "I am pleased to see you are both faring well."

"It seems the Lord Regent has stolen the leading man's entrance. Such a shame." Balthier said melodramatically as he watched the seeming parade of Imperial soldiers leaving the Aerodome. Finally, a particularly large, red chocobo emerged, mounted by Larsa—followed closely by an even larger black, armoured chocobo mounted by Judge Gabranth.

"Larsa! Hey Larsa! Over here!" Vaan called out over the sound of a dozen chirping, squawking chocobos. Larsa turned his head and quickly led his mount to where his friends stood, quickly forgetting his large cortege.

"Vaan, Penelo, Balthier, Fran, Basch! You are all here! I am delighted to be here with all of you!" Larsa greeted enthusiastically.

"You sure do know how to make an entrance!" Penelo laughed as she pointed to Larsa's 100-man escort.

"It's Zargabaath. He insisted I bring a hundred soldiers, even though I believe that Gabranth would do well enough to protect me." Larsa beckoned for the Judge to come closer, which Gabranth did—though he felt slightly awkward and out of place... given the last time he had encountered the party. The Judge nodded but did not say anything, thankful for his helm from saving him from another potentially overtly discomfiting situation.

"We can attest to that!" Balthier said in jest, to ease the tension he could visibly see in the Judge's posture even astride his chocobo. "Gabranth would have felled the whole of Dalmasca by himself, before anyone could have reached you, little Emperor."

The party shared hearty laughter over the truth of Balthier's statement which eased Gabranth's unease. The Judge Magister motioned for four chocobos to be brought forth and offered them to Vaan and the others, who accepted the mounts graciously.

"I'll race you to the castle Larsa!" Vaan hollered as he dug his heels into his chocobo's haunches, urging the bird to a sprint towards the city.

"You shall eat my royal dust, Vaan!" Larsa shouted in turn as he did the same, his red chocobo likewise bursting into a sprint after the other chocobo.

"Vaan! What in Ivalice is he thinking?" Penelo cried out in exasperation.

Gabranth was about to chase after the Archadian Regent, but Basch held his chocobo's bridle to stay him. "Be at ease, Noah, he is safe here. He is now under my guard as well." The younger twin thought for a moment before he nodded in agreement, opting for a leisurely ride towards the Dalmascan palace.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"A joust?" Gabranth mused as he turned to his subordinates who were holding up identical posters excitedly. He took a poster from a particularly eager Imperial and read it. A joust in honor of the Lady Ashe's coronation and to foster goodwill among the military forces of Dalmasca, Archadia, and the newly rebuilt Nabradia. "It would be a good opportunity..."

"Commander, we would do our best to bring honor to Archadia! Will you grant us permission to enter?" Another Imperial all but begged, barely concealing his excitement at the idea of a joust. Gabranth finally gave his acquiesce which was followed by rowdy and excited cheering.

"My knights will not make it easy for your Imperials in the joust." Basch said with a smirk as he, too, led his chocobo to the stables.

"I'll wager on that, brother." Gabranth replied with equal pomp as they walked together to the royal box, where the Lady Ashe, Lord Larsa, Vaan, Penelo, Balthier, Fran, and the newly-crowned princess of Nabradia had gathered to watch the joust. The stands were filled and the crowd cheered wildly as the competitors rode out one by one to pay their respects to the Lady of Dalmasca.

"It pleases me that you have all come to my coronation. Nothing has made me happier." Ashe said sincerely as she gathered her friends close, she even smiled at Gabranth who was caught off-guard at the warm welcome.

The joust soon began, Archadian Imperials, Dalmascan Knights, and even Nabradia's Kingsguard proved their worth on the field—each with equal fervor. The crowd was thrilled at the display of knightly skill, the bids going higher as the competitors became fewer and fewer in number. Before the finals, the Dalmascan Great Maester stood up and shakily made his way to the front of the royal box.

"In true Dalmascan tradition, it is asked that the Heads of State choose one champion from their nation to compete in the royal joust. The winner will, of course, win a kiss from our future queen."

The princess of Nabradia, Raelyn Heios, stepped forward and whispered something to the Grand Maester. The elderly man cleared his throat. "As it seems the Kingdom of Nabradia's champion is the female general, Bellatrix—the champion has a choice to win a kiss from the future Emperor and Lord Regent of the Archadian Empire, Lord Larsa."

Larsa turned an impossible shade of red and Gabranth visibly stiffened as the crowd went wild at the announcement. A battle between the champions of nations was something to behold!

The female general of Nabradia's kingsguard rode her white chocobo before the royal box and raised her visor before bowing. "General Bellatrix for Nabradia, my lady."

Ashe then turned to Basch and rested a hand lightly on his arm. "Would you do me the honor, Captain?"

Basch nodded as he called for his chocobo. Once saddled, he mounted it and trotted to his place beside Bellatrix. He raised his visor and bowed as well. "Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg for Dalmasca, my lady."

Finally, everyone turned to Larsa who still had a healthy blush on his cheeks. The young regent looked over his Imperial cortege, a number of whom had stepped forward—offering to bring honor to the Empire. Yet, the choice was clear as Larsa slowly turned to Gabranth, who stood unusually straighter behind him. "Judge Magister Gabranth, would you give me this honor?"

Gabranth had a sinking feeling in his gut that this was not going to end well, but he nodded in acquiesce. His black war chocobo was saddled and he mounted it, taking his place as well beside his brother. He removed his helm and the sound of collective gasping filled the air—for there, side by side, were two identical Captains fon Ronsenburg. Basch's option to keep his blonde hair clipped just when he had during the year he spent in Archadia did nothing but bring them even closer in appearance. Gabranth looked at his older twin accusingly before bowing to Ashe. "Judge Magister Gabranth for Archadia, my lady."

"Champions, I bid you goodluck! Fight bravely and with honor!" Ashe declared before she sat back down, barely concealing her own excitement.

The crowd's cheers escalated as the first round was announced: The Lady General Bellatrix against Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg. Both knights bowed to the future queen and to each other, Basch noting how noticeably young the other knight was—barely older than the princess of Nabradia herself. He promised inwardly to do his best not to harm her.

The chocobos dug their talons restlessly in the soft grass beneath them, their riders adjusting shield and lances one last time before the trumpet was blown. The chocobos charged at each other with equal ferocity as the knights who mounted them. Skilled though she was, Bellatrix was little match for Basch's experience and she was knocked off her chocobo by the sheer momentum of the Captain's thrust.

Basch quickly turned his chocobo around and offered his hand to the lady who lay on the grass flat on her back. She lifted her visor and took the proffered hand. "Thank you, Captain." Bellatrix and Basch walked and bowed before the latter was proclaimed the winner. Raelyn Heios approached Basch as he returned to the stands and took his hands earnestly in hers. "Thank you, sir... for not hurting her." The Captain's brows furrowed in confusion but nodded anyway.

Gabranth, on the other hand, was restlessly running his fingers through his chocobo's feathers. The sinking feeling he had in his gut only multiplied tenfold. He could not understand why, he was not afraid of facing his brother—it was quite the contrary, truth be told. When Basch was, unsurprisingly, declared the winner of the first round, Gabranth mounted his chocobo while he let one of the Imperials finish strapping the shield to his forearm.

The twin brothers paid their respects to Ashe, as was customary, the latter still laughing fondly at the sight of the identical knights before they parted and took their place on either side of the bar. Gabranth put on his helm securely and held his lance tightly, adrenaline suddenly pumping in his veins. He barely heard the sound of the trumpet over the sound of blood rushing in his ears as he urged his chocobo to a sprint.

It was all a blur as both chocobos charged with their equally intense riders so that none of the spectators actually saw how both knights managed to knock each other down from their respective mounts. The sound of metal crashing against grass resounded in the field as both Captain and Judge Magister awkwardly fell back-first unto the ground. Both acting by instinct, they scrambled to their feet, tore off their shields from their forearms, and searched for their arms. Basch drew his broadsword with both hands while Gabranth drew his double swords and drew himself to his battle stance.

The spectators, including those in the royal box, who were rendered silent for one moment at the seeming draw were on their feet at the realization that the battle was not over. The cheers thundered in the open field as both champions circled each other before the real battle began. Gabranth charged first, his blow parried with much difficulty by the Captain. Basch retaliated with a blow of his own which was barely blocked by his twin. The exchange of blows was fierce and their blows were delivered with such force that small sparks could be seen from every clash of metal against metal.

Larsa gripped the arms of his chair tightly, more than a little worried at the intensity of the battle between Gabranth and Basch. Penelo laid a comforting hand on the regent's shoulder knowingly, but it did little to calm Larsa down.

"I suppose I should choose a kiss from the Lord Regent, eh Noah?" Basch jeered with a laugh as he parried another of Gabranth's attacks.

"You would not dare!" The younger twin hissed through his helm, sparing a quick glance at the royal box and seeing an equally distressed Lady Ashelia. A realization dawned on him. "And I supposed I should choose a kiss from the Lady of Dalmasca."

The mirth in Basch's voice suddenly disappeared at Gabranth's comment and he delivered a particularly hard blow which disarmed one of his twin's swords.

"Oh, so that's how it is, brother!" Gabranth shot back as he struck at Basch who, again, parried. Their swords pushed hard against each other until both knights knocked each other's weapons out of their hands.

Without a second thought, the brothers tore off their helms and resorted to the last weapons they had at hand. Much to everyone's shock, both the Captain of the Brotherhood of the Knights of Dalmasca and the Judge Magister Commander of the Archadian Army started throwing punches at one another.

"By the gods!" Ashe exclaimed as he raised her hands to cover her mouth.

Larsa stood up from his seat and leaned over the edge of the royal box, distress painted on his features.

"Is it just me or is this royal joust starting to look much like a back alley brawl?" Balthier commented off-handedly, though his raised brows belied his shock at the situation unfurling before them.

"Stop! Stop this madness at once!" Ashe finally found her voice and commanded the knights to pull the twins apart before they ended up tearing each other apart at the rate they were going. The crowd cried in disappointment when the fight was broken up by both the Dalmascan Knights and the Imperials. The Grand Maester quickly took the stand, "it seems we have a draw! Will the champions please come before the Lady Ashe and the Lord Regent Larsa."

Aching and dishevelled, the brothers mounted their respective chocobos and rode to where both Heads of State stood stiffly—with equally disappointed expressions. Gabranth shot Basch a glare which the other conveniently ignored. The elderly man held the traditional laurel wreath then frowned, realizing they had only one.

"Let the Captain keep his leaves, I will claim my kiss _from the Lady Ashe _as my prize." Gabranth spoke cheekily as he moved his chocobo away slightly when Basch tried to kick him off.

Ashe tried to hide her apparent surprise, but decided it was best to end the joust-turned-brawl before the brothers were at each other's throats again. "Very well, dismount Judge Magister so that you may claim your prize."

"Wait! I, too, have no desire for the wreath. I will claim my kiss _from the Lord Regent Larsa_ as my prize." Basch likewise dismounted and stood before the furiously blushing boy.

The twins threw each other glares which promised death as they knelt to receive their respective rewards.

Ashe gently wiped the dirt off Gabranth's cheek with her handkerchief before planting a light kiss on the tan cheek. Basch felt the unfamiliar urge to murder his brother.

Larsa rubbed the dirt from Basch's skin with his glove before he, too, placed a chaste kiss on the Captain's cheek. Gabranth was almost overcome with the desire to murder his brother.

The tension between them was almost suffocating that the Maester had to have them escorted separately away from the field before announcing that the coronation ceremony would begin in an hour in the Royal Shrine of Dalmasca. This gave ample time for everyone to clean up, and for the brothers to sort themselves out.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

The coronation was joyful, though there was as much formalities as there were well-wishers, that Gabranth could feel a crick in his back from standing too stiffly for much too long. The newly-crowned Queen of Dalmasca, breathtakingly beautiful in her pristine white gown, stood up from her throne, the crown of her people sitting proudly on her platinum hair. Queen Ashelia delivered her speech well, inspiring those who listened with her words of freedom and hope—and of looking to the future, and learning from mistakes of the past. The crowd applauded as the new Queen left the shrine to prepare for the feast.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

All formalities done with, Ashe was able to change into something more comfortable—after all, she was to be with old friends now. The Queen entered the small chambers where the party had gathered around a small table, eating and sharing stories of their adventures for the past year. Noticeable was the Judge Magister who stood stiffly by the door, looking quite alone.

"Gabranth, will you not join us? You are one of us now, you are more than welcome to share our table." Ashe asked kindly as she offered the Magister a seat. Larsa looked up hopefully, having given up trying to convince Gabranth by himself. The blonde looked at Ashe, then at Larsa, then at Basch (with much contempt), before settling back at Larsa. He awkwardly took the offered seat and removed his helm, resting it on the edge of the table.

"Quite handsome, isn't he?" Balthier teased as he eyed the young regent from the corner of his keen eyes. "Oh yes, quite." Basch added sarcastically, though without good humor.

Vaan, oblivious as always, propped his elbows on the table and leaned over Ashe. "So, Ashe—now that you're Queen... will you be getting married anytime soon?"

Basch suddenly choked on something and began coughing uncontrollably. Penelo shot Vaan a murderous look as the table jumped a foot in the air. Vaan howled as Penelo kicked him from under the table. "What was that for? I was just asking!"

Ashe put down her fork as she tried to look unaware of the blush which was definitely staining her cheeks. "Well, Vaan... I am—_entertaining_ a suitor as of late." The Queen chose her words carefully, though she avoided looking at anyone in particular.

"Oh, is he handsome? Is he a lord of some sort? Where is he from?"

Again, the table jumped as Penelo delivered another debilitating kick from underneath it. "Vaan, grow up please!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll stop asking if you stop kicking me! Geez Penelo, I'll be going home a cripple!" Vaan whimpered as he rubbed his aching shins. Fran and Balthier exchanged amused smiles while Gabranth gave his twin a knowing look.

"So... Larsa." Vaan then turned his attention to the young lord, who looked up at him with a smile.

"Yes, Vaan?"

"When are _you_ going to get married?"

Larsa's fork fell with a resounding clatter on the marble floor.

Gabranth stood up abruptly, making the others jump from their seats.

"I should... go get Lord Larsa... a new fork." The Judge Magister said awkwardly as he grabbed his helm from the table and quickly left the room.

Five pairs of eyes looked at Vaan accusingly, Larsa stared at his plate in silence—all of a sudden feeling overly interested in his food.

Unsurprisingly, Gabranth did not return.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Gabranth rolled the thin band of white gold in his fingers, eyes staring forward but unseeing. So lost was he in his thoughts that he did not hear or notice Larsa enter his chambers until the Solidor sat beside him on his bed.

"Lord Larsa-?" Gabranth asked as if waking up from a trance, quickly dropping the ring and chain on the wooden table beside the bed. "Back so soon?"

"Hm." Larsa leant into the Judge's warm body, wrapping his arms around Gabranth's torso. "I could not finish my meal... it seems they did not have any new forks in the kitchen."

The blonde looked down at the Solidor guiltily, suddenly remembering his horrible excuse for leaving. "Forgive me." Gabranth whispered into soft, black hair, wishing Larsa understood what the apology was for.

"What is bothering you, Gabranth?" Larsa asked softly. "You were unlike yourself at the joust... and you left without a word during dinner."

The blonde closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He supposed now was a better time than any other. "I was jealous... so very jealous, Larsa—though it shames me to admit it."

Larsa held Gabranth's head between his hands and leaned in for a kiss. "There is no one else, Gabranth." Another gentle kiss. "There can be no one else."

"How?" Gabranth asked hoarsely, his eyebrows drawing together. "I am jealous of the one who will soon have you by oath."

Larsa paused. "Is that what you are afraid of, Gabranth? Of _my_ marriage?"

"You will not remain young forever."

"I do not intend to, I assure you. No oath before Septons, Priests, Elders, or whoever else can keep my heart from you." Larsa whispered into Gabranth's neck. "Or do you now question our bond?"

With uncharacteristic ferocity, Gabranth pinned the young lord on his back on the bed, hands tight around thin wrists. "Never."

"Then take that which is yours forever." Larsa breathed as he looked straight into intense cobalt orbs.

Gabranth was lost in the depth of Larsa's eyes. He leant down until their faces were so close that Gabranth could feel the young lord's breath caressing his skin. He could see fear, hope, and desire all fight for dominance in Larsa's mind and he moved one hand to trace a feather light trail down a flushed cheek. Testing. Feeling. Remembering.

Larsa's eyes fluttered closed at the light touch and he drew in a breath, unconsciously holding it in anticipation. Gabranth closed the small gap between them, pressing his lips gently against Larsa's own—soft and barely touching. The Solidor released the breath he had been holding and whimpered. To the Judge, it sounded like a plea and it set his whole being alight.

The hand which had traced Larsa's cheek swept around to thread into dark hair, while the other wrapped around the boy's back and pulled him firmly against Gabranth's chest. Even the whole of Ivalice could not stop him now.

Gabranth's tongue caressed Larsa's lips and he opened them, drawing the Judge into him. The Judge's kiss was overwhelming and Larsa clutched at Gabranth's tunic as he moaned into the man's mouth. Gabranth moved his lips lower until he pressed them against Larsa's pale neck which was enticingly exposed to him, making the boy arch up slightly beneath him. Gabranth held Larsa's head in place while his tongue ran over the same spot.

Larsa's breathing hitched as Gabranth pulled their bodies together, fingers running through dark hair. The smell of Larsa filled the blonde's senses and the press of the delicate body beneath him gave Gabranth a heady rush.

"Larsa." Gabranth let the name roll off his tongue in a half moan.

The Solidor bit his lip and looked away. Embarrassed.

"Look at me."

Gabranth gently grasped Larsa's chin and brought them face to face.

"You are so beautiful when you are like this."

Larsa's cheeks burned crimson at the unabashed declaration.

Enjoying the feel of soft hair between his fingers, Gabranth ran his fingers into Larsa's scalp and massaged gently. A soft purr rose up Larsa's throat, the muscles in his neck relaxing under Gabranth's skilled mouth. The Judge's other hand ran under the boy's tunic, running up the slightly heaving chest before dragging the pads of his fingers down Larsa's back—turning the boy into water beneath his fingers. "G—Gabranth..." Larsa groaned breathlessly as he arched up, begging to be touched. The focus in Gabranth's blue eyes sharpened, and they gleamed with a predatory hunger that sent an unfamiliar shiver through Larsa, causing his already painful arousal to throb mercilessly between his legs.

Gabranth took a moment to rid himself of his tunic before reaching down to divest Larsa of his own, nearly violent in his actions, bringing sharp exclamations from Larsa as the tunic was stripped from his body. Then, hands on the Solidor's small hips, Gabranth pushed down until their clothed erections ground together in a most delicious friction. Nails raked down Larsa's ribs, then down to the top of his breeches. Larsa fell back against the pillows as Gabranth hastily nipped and lick his way down to meet his hands. A particulary hard bite to his hip made Larsa cry out as he raised his hips involuntarily, and his breeches were almost torn off him in a frenzy.

Strong hands wrapped around Larsa's knees, lifting them so his feet rested on the bed, knees bent. He looked up at Gabranth, towering over him, with slightly confused eyes—feeling very vulnerable in his position. Gabranth turned his attention fully to Larsa, his eyes sweeping over the boy's body, memorizing. Larsa shyly tried to bring his knees together to hide himself but Gabranth's hands on his knees pushed them apart.

Calloused fingers lightly traced down quivering thighs, but Gabranth's hands were full of impatience, tight with tension—as if his years of strict discipline had crumbled into dust. It was mere seconds before a strong hand wrapped around the satin length of Larsa's manhood in a tense squeeze before joining the other to wrap around slender thighs, gripping tightly, grounding the lithe boy to the mattress. Larsa bit his lip to restrain a particularly loud groan, fingers clutching desperately at the sheets. Locking eyes with Larsa, Gabranth touched his lips to the inside of the boy's knee, and opening his mouth wide, ran his teeth sharply across the tender skin of Larsa's thigh in a line from knee to groin. Lara threw his head back, eyes clenched closed as his hips thrust against the Judge's restraining hold, his world threatening to shatter with the intensity of the desire pulsing through his veins.

"Gabranth—please... do not play with me..."

Blue eyes darkened, pupils dilating, breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Gabranth was fighting to retain some kind of control. Larsa's body was water and he was dying of thirst. Touching was not enough. Tasting only made him want more.

Larsa's manhood throbbed against his tongue. Gabranth savoured the feel of it, treasured every gasp and whimper that he coaxed from the young lord's lips. He glanced up at Larsa, memorizing the sight of him, head thrown back as he arched off the bed—sweat beading along his slender form, making it gleam in the moonlight.

Larsa moaned hotly, unconsciously thrusting his hips in an attempt to push his need further down Gabranth's throat. The Judge reached up a hand to touch Larsa's face, fingers tracing over closed eyes lids till they slid over slightly parted lips. The digits disappeared between pink lips and Larsa sucked them in, threading his tongue through them. Gabranth failed to restrain a moan at the sight—did his young lover know how sensual he was. The blonde's fingers disappeared from Larsa's mouth, and before he could protest, he felt one gently pressing against his entrance.

"Gabranth..." Larsa whimpered, torn between his need and shame in acting so wantonly. Gabranth was in complete control and Larsa felt powerless beneath him. As the first finger breached him, Larsa shut his eyes tightly—fingers clutching painfully at the blonde's upper arms. "Gods... I... please..." The Solidor's words melted into incoherent whimpers as a second finger joined the first with slight difficulty. Soft whimpers of mixed pain and pleasure slowly turned into ragged gasps as Gabranth's fingers thrust into the tight channel, bringing Larsa to a state of arousal he had not known possible.

Gabranth's face was so close that Larsa could feel the older man's warm breath on his cheek, and soft smoothness of his clipped hair on his shoulder. Without thinking, Larsa ran his fingers through the short blonde mane, suddenly clutching tight as Gabranth's fingers withdrew from him only to be replaced by something far larger.

"Larsa..." Gabranth cursed under his breath as he willed his body to obey, his self control dissolving into nothingness. "Gods, Larsa... will you—will you let me take you?"

Larsa looked up at the Judge with glazed blue eyes—curious, and filled with desire. Slowly, almost hesitatingly, Larsa reached up to touch Gabranth's face. He touch the sunburnt cheek first, then slowly traced the strong jaw before running a finger undsteadily across blonde brows—down his nose. "Larsa..." Gabranth begged against the finger which crossed his parted lips.

The Solidor wrapped his arms around the Judge's neck as he whispered his acquiesce. With practiced patience, Gabranth slowly pushed himself into Larsa. Larsa cried out sharply, the pain shooting through him, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He had expected pain, but not this burning, pulsing, white heat which threatened to split him apart. Gabranth froze, muscles straining to still his movements, though every pore in his body screamed for him to plunge into the unbearable tightness of the young lord beneath him. He waited for Larsa to adjust to him, waiting for the tight body to relax... but Larsa remained as tense and tight as ever.

Gabranth captured the Solidor's lips in his, coaxing it open and drinking the boy's sobs—willing him to relax. The white heat slowly died down to a dull burning and Larsa did his best to blink away the tears from his eyes as he looked up at Gabranth with nothing but love and complete surrender. The blonde leaned into the crook of Larsa's shoulder and ran a tongue up his neck, making the young lord moan and arch up—driving Gabranth deeper into him. Larsa gasped as Gabranth pushed himself further with forced slowness. Trembling hands ran down Gabranth's back as if to memorize the curve of the hard body above him. The blonde groaned deeply as slender fingers dug into the skin of his back, grinding and rocking until he was fully seated in his young lover's body.

Gabranth braced his arms on either side of Larsa's head and flexed his back with another groan. It took all his years of self-control to refrain from thrusting madly into that tunnel of heat. The blonde pulled himself out halfway before pushing back in. Larsa let his head fall back into the mattress and moaned out Gabranth's name. Gabranth pressed in then eased back, slowly, deliberately—sweat running into his eyes.

An intense need was awakened within Larsa as he looked up at Gabranth, a deep longing to be taken, to be possessed by his Judge Protector. Gabranth, intense in a way Larsa had never experienced, was searching his eyes as the thrusts became stronger and deeper. Strong hands held Larsa from sliding up on the mattress, one hand at his hip, another on his shoulder. Gabranth hooked an arm under one of Larsa's knees and thrust deep. Larsa's eyes flew wide open, fingers digging deeper into Gabranth's back as his mouth opened in a soundless cry. The blonde let out a shivering groan in reply as he grasped the sheets next to Larsa's head and locked his arms to keep himself from falling over. Larsa bit his lower lip beneath him.

"Don't.." Larsa leaned over and kissed along Larsa's jaw. "I want to hear you."

Gabranth leaned in, thrusting deeply. Every thust was slow, deep, and precise. Larsa was beside himself, stars were dancing beneath his closed lids as thrust after thrust ignited a fire within him which threatened to consume him body and soul. He scarcely had time to recover from one explosion before another one tore through him. He could do nothing but cling helplessly to Gabranth, his shield, his protector, his lover, his life.

"Let me hear you." Gabranth commanded in a low, husky tone.

Larsa winced in pleasure and parted his lips before a shuddering moan escaped him.

"Gods... yes, that's it." The blonde was beyond all reaches of propriety, there was only this and now—the young lord crying out his name as he claimed him. "Cry out for me, Larsa."

Larsa's legs fell open and he arched into the thrusts, crying out. He threw his head back and groaned desperately. Soon his sharp cried were joined with Gabranth's low moans when Larsa ground his hips to meet the older man's thrusts.

Gabranth groaned breathlessly as he rocked against his lover harder, relishing Larsa's welcoming cries.

"Gabranth—Noah... please don't... don't stop." Larsa pleaded, Gabranth's real name slipping from his lips. "Gods please Noah—!"

Larsa's voice rose nearly an octave as his body began to tighten and tremble in warning. He cried out one last time before he arched his back completely and clamped down hard on Gabranth, his release spilling between their bodies. Gabranth growled harshly at the impossible tightness around him and nearly doubled over at its intensity. He gripped Larsa's thighs with bruising force as he finally released into his lover's velvet heat.

Larsa collapsed back unto the mattress, so dazed that he hardly recognized the weight that pressed on top of him. Gabranth rolled off to one side and pulled the Solidor against his chest. Larsa did not protest, instead, he wrapped his own arms around the blonde's waist and pulled himself closer. Gabranth smiled through the haze in his mind and placed a light kiss on Larsa's forehead.

"So... this is making love." Larsa whispered softly, after catching his breath. Gabranth only held him tighter in response.

"Does this mean that... I am your wife now?" The Solidor looked up at Gabranth with such sincere eyes that the blonde could not help but break into a hearty laugh. Seeing that Larsa was serious, Gabranth laid back and looked at the canopy above them thoughtfully.

"Yes, I suppose this makes you... my wife."

Larsa sat up and looked down at Gabranth, a small frown on his swollen lips. "It isn't fair though, you have not asked me for my hand in marriage. It is highly improper."

The blonde's smile grew wider as he reached over to the night stand, fingers running over the thin chain which held his mother's wedding ring. He drew the small chain to him and watched as Larsa's frown deepened when he removed the ring from the chain.

"This was my mother's wedding ring..." Gabranth began as he rolled the small band in his fingers. "She always did believe that my brother would marry first. I suppose she was mistaken this time."

Larsa's eyes grew impossibly wide and his heart beat wildly in his chest as Gabranth gently slid the white gold ring unto his index finger. "You have a bit more growing up to do for you to wear it on the proper finger, but," Gabranth kissed Larsa deeply. "I wanted to give this to you now."

"Ask me properly, Gabranth." Larsa smiled as he ran his finger over the smooth surface of the ring.

The blonde sat up and held Larsa's face in his hands, blue eyes staring into equally blue ones. "Will you marry me, Larsa? Will you stay with me till death, love me as I love you... will you be with me always?"

Larsa flung his arms around Gabranth's neck and he cried into a strong shoulder. "I do, Gabranth. Till forever and a day... I shall love you as you love me. I will be with you always."

With the warmth of Larsa in his arms, fingers buried in the soft onyx hair, holding the young lord he knew so well yet did not know at all, a smile graced Gabranth's lips. Alone was no longer a word he associated with honor, for there was honor in finding the role he was meant to play. Gabranth knew at that moment that his long search was over; he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

In Larsa's embrace, Gabranth was finally home.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**THE END**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

More shameless ripping from Game of Thrones!

Wow! I finally finished this piece of fiction! I am quite sad about it, but very proud of how it has progressed. There will be an Epilogue to this, so it's not quite the _very _end yet.

And no, please don't tell me Larsa was too young to do it—because I thought about having them do it five years later, but found it more improbable that they would NOT do it for five more years than do it a year post game.

I enjoyed writing this story immensely, and all your reviews have been an inspiration!

I really do hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

With all my thanks,

Seph


	21. Epilogue

**THE PRICE OF HONOR**

**Disclaimers:** Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

**Overall Story Notes:** (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth **DID NOT** die in the end of the game. :)

**Chapter Notes: **The epilogue takes place 4 years after Ashe's coronation.

**Author's Notes: **Just the usual apology for grammatical eyesores. Please do enjoy. :) Larsa is already 17 years old, in case the math eluded you. This Epilogue was greatly influenced by the work of Lady of Balfonheim entitled "Words Unspoken". I take no credit for parts which I have adopted in my story.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

The fear shot through Larsa, waking him with a breathless scream that took only a moment to fully form, his body breaking into a cold sweat. Warm hands massaged against his skin, seeking to drive away the dread and panic that had mercilessly pulled him from his sleep. The strong, lean body kept him pressed to the bed, preventing him from throwing himself to the floor. The terror ripped through Larsa as if it would consume him alive, and finally threw him back into fitful slumber.

When he woke, it was to comfort that was foreign, yet strangely familiar to him. He was warm; warmer that he'd been in a long time before this day, and secure. His tense body practically sighed with contentment as he nestled further into the source of heat. Arms that he had become so familiar with in the past five years wrapped tighter, pulling him closer, and holding him securely in that warmth.

Larsa finally managed to open his eyes, letting them adjust in the dim moonlight. He was curled into Gabranth's body, face pressed to the Judge's strong chest, resting just below his chin, pale cheek resting on a muscled upper arm. Gabranth had that arm wrapped tightly around his back, where it met the other arm, draped over Larsa from the other side. The Solidor shifted slightly, only to find Gabranth's leg draped over his own, locking them together completely.

The Judge stirred above him, flexing strong arms, a large hand smoothing down Larsa's tense back while he rocked into the latter gently.

Larsa waited, forcing his taut body to relax, grateful for the moment of clarity in which he could see past his own debilitating fear. He waited until Gabranth's arms loosened their hold before he tilted his head to look upon the face of the man he loved.

Gabranth's hair was tousled, when had it grown this long? Unruly blonde locks fell into his eyes, and Larsa realized that Gabranth had neglected clipping it this past month. His chin was tilted down—his face must have been pressed against Larsa's hair. His lips were slightly parted and long lashes lay gently against a tanned cheek. Gabranth's features were set in a soft expression. _Soft._ It was an expression the whole of Ivalice would have never thought to see on this man... _save Larsa_.

Larsa stared, and as he stared, blue eyes opened—and the Solidor was lost, completely unaware of being caught in this position. He was, however, aware of the lips which pressed together as he watched cobalt eyes focus, and then slowly fill with awareness. The Judge who had been sleeping a moment ago was gone, and in his place was a man who had been caught in a moment of vulnerability.

Gabranth moved slowly, like an animal trying to escape after being spotted by a predator without drawing further attention to itself. True, they had been lovers for nearly five years, yet Gabranth had insisted that they not share a bed over night—his honor and respect for the young lord would not allow it. Not tonight, of all nights especially. Not the night before Larsa's seventeenth year _and_ coronation as Emperor of Archadia.

The blonde shifted off of Larsa, the muscled arm retracted to rub a calloused hand over his face as he began to pull back. Panic flashed through the Solidor, followed by quick resolve, and he tightened his fingers which clutched at Gabranth's tunic. The Magister stilled and looked down, his expression as much a warning as it was a question—and Larsa met that expression, unblinking.

"Stay the night?"

And he did. A thoughtful moment, a single nod of his head, and he once again wrapped Larsa in the warmth and strength of his body.

Larsa had not slept that well since the announcement of his coronation had been made public. Since his duties were laid before him. Since his betrothal. Since he could scarcely remember when.

Larsa was not the boy he knew himself to be.

The Solidor awoke the next day, warm and comfortable. Instead of the heavy duvet wrapped around him, he found strong arms. Instead of his plush pillow under his head, he found a firm chest and a lulling heart beat. He lay perfectly still, unwilling to wake his new pillow. Larsa wondered if Gabranth would blush again like he did that past night—the man rarely did. He remembered how the colour had spread over those tanned cheeks, giving Larsa a glance behind the Judge's steel exterior.

The Magister began to stir beside him, turning to nuzzle the top of Larsa's head—sending a shiver up his spine despite his best efforts to remain still. The arms around him shifted, and large hands caressed his back gently, and Larsa failed to contain the soft sigh that escaped his lips.

The body underneath him tensed immediately and the arms which held him stiffened. Gabranth's eyes blinked open and a look of confusion crossed his face as he looked down at Larsa's wide blue eyes. Again, a rich rose colour rose to the blonde's face before he withdrew his arms from around the Solidor.

A surge of understanding and sympathy filled Larsa and he rolled over to face away from Gabranth, giving the Judge the privacy to recover. As he lay silently, staring at the small diamond patterns on his duvet, he heard the shuffle of clothing and felt the shift in the mattress beneath him.

"Happy seventeenth name day, Larsa." Lips barely brushed against the sensitive shell of the Solidor's ear, but it sent a shiver down his body. Larsa looked up at Gabranth, fingers running over the older man's face. "You shall be there later, won't you?"

"Of course, your Excellency." Gabranth whispered as he got up, not noticing the pain which flashed through his lover's eyes at the use of his formal title at such an intimate moment. "I shall leave you to prepare. It is, after all... a very important day."

Larsa closed his eyes at the sound of footsteps as Gabranth left his chambers, a deep emptiness in the wake of his departure.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Larsa had already finished bathing and was sitting by his small table when the maidservants came in an hour later to serve him breakfast. The servants laid the trays on the table and quickly bowed before leaving, noting the future Emperor's uncharacteristic silence.

The chamber doors opened once more and the sound of armour grated in Larsa's ears_. Gabranth_. Gabranth would not look at him as he spoke of all the arrangements for the coronation that day, and for all the ache in his heart, Larsa sat through it silently. The food felt like parchment against his tongue, the tea tasted stale, and the warmth of the sun gave him no comfort. It all combined to completely ruin the good mood he had woken up in.

Larsa wanted to be back in Gabranth's arms. Deep inside him, he wanted it far more than what would be considered appropriate. Understood, far too well that this would only result in disappointment and pain—and yet, he simply could not convince himself to stop wanting it. All pretensions stripped away, the future Emperor wept... letting the hot tears fall down his cheeks and into his tea.

Gabranth stopped mid-sentence when he heard the soft sobs, his heart clenching painfully inside his chest. He approached his lover and placed hesitant hands on heaving shoulders, squeezing gently. "Larsa, look at me."

Larsa shook his head as he bowed his head even lower. "I cannot do this, Gabranth. I thought I could, but I cannot. I am afraid." Tearful blue eyes pleaded, pink lips quivering. "I am so very afraid."

The Judge coaxed Larsa to stand on unsteady legs while he kept his eyes locked on the latter's own. The future Emperor had grown up, the top of his head already reached above Gabranth's chin and his frame almost filled out with lean muscle—yet, he still felt helpless and small—clutching on to the Judge just as he had been since he was a child.

"I will love you forever, Larsa." Gabranth breathed into the onyx hair as his heart threatened to break into a million pieces in his chest. "You have my heart, though another will have you by oath."

"And I, you." Larsa wept into the strong chest, hands fisting in the Judge Magister's cape tightly. "My heart is yours... it always has been. No oath... will ever keep me from you."

_A renewal of vows long spoken in the midst of tears and heartbreak._

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

The Imperial palace was up and about, bustling with activity as the final preparations were in progress.

"The Princess Raelyn Heios of Nabradia is very beautiful, your Excellency." One of the maidservants spoke, trying to comfort the future Emperor whose mood did not seem appropriate for the occasion. "She will give you many sons."

Larsa's lips drew taut, but he forced a weak smile.

"Your engagement will be well-blessed, your Grace. Faram watches over you." Yet another maidservant added as she slipped the deep purple and gold fabric of Larsa's ceremonial robe over his outstretched arms. "Your reign shall be the start of a new age, Excellency, with that the Empire is without doubt."

Larsa nodded, yet said nothing.

The three maidservants who were tasked to prepare the Lord Regent for his coronation and engagement looked at each other with sad eyes, their young lord was inconsolable.

One of them took a brush and began running it through Larsa's long, black hair. The regent had grown it beyond his shoulders in memory of his brother, Vayne, though he always kept it tied back. "Shall I tie your hair back, Excellency? Or would you prefer a warrior's braid?"

Larsa's eyes went wide, as if remembering something, and hastily retreated to his bath without a word. Minutes later, he called out through the doors. "Mycenea! You were from Landis, long before the war?"

The three women looked at each other with puzzled looks at the regent's strange question, but Mycenea slowly approached the closed doors to answer. "Yes I was, your Grace."

"Leave us." Came the muffled command from beyond the doors. Mycenea looked at her two companions who shook their heads to show that they, too, did not know what was going on, but did as they were bid and left the chambers quickly.

Mycenea turned one of the knobs on the doors and slowly pushed it open. "Your Excellency?"

"Help me, Mycenea..." Larsa whispered, sounding distraught as he bowed over his bureau, facing away from her.

The maidservant approached the future Emperor slowly to see what was wrong. What she saw made her step back with a gasp, both hands over her mouth did nothing to hide her shock.

"Your Excellency!"

Larsa stood there, tears threatening to spill from impossibly blue eyes, in one hand he held a small dagger, and in the other he clutched a long lock of his obsidian hair.

"Help me." He repeated as the tears finally came.

Mycenea, though confused and alarmed, pulled the young regent into her arms in a protective, motherly embrace. "My Lord Larsa, why..." She ran a hand down his broad back. "What have you done to your beautiful hair?"

"A braid... he told me..." Larsa murmured almost incoherently. "To protect someone... to bind someone in heart and spirit. To bind for life. He told me..." He looked at the lock he held in his fingers,. "He told me..."

To Mycenea, Larsa's mumblings made little sense, what in Ivalice was the young lord talking about. Landis? Braids? "Oh." The realization dawned on her and she understood completely.

There was only one other hume in the palace who had come from Landis, and she was no fool. No amount of naivete could have hidden the way the Lord Regent looked at that certain Judge Magister. The longing was almost too painful to look upon. She comforted the prince for a moment, waiting for his tears to abate.

Larsa looked at Mycenea with expectant eyes and she nodded, "Your Excellency, let us begin your Goddess Ring."

It was a romantic custom from the Republic of Landis. If a soldier left for battle, it was considered a great honor to receive a Goddess Ring from a lady who held great affection for him. It was a token of a love deeper than any other, a symbol of binding oneself heart and soul, of waiting beyond forever. A woman was forbidden from creating more than one ring in her lifetime, and men who were lucky enough to receive such a gift were protected by an infused protection spell cast by the giver.

"Braid this as tightly as you can, your Grace." Mycenea instructed as she exited the bath to retrieve her sewing basket and began stitching a thin strip of leather.

The Goddess Ring was made from a lock of a woman's hair, woven into an intricate braid and bound at both ends tightly to form a ring. It was then stitched to its leather base to prevent it from unravelling. A long thin cord was usually added to the charm as a means for the recipient to wear it about his neck or to fasten it on his armour.

Larsa handed over the braid and Mycenea could not help a small laugh which escaped her at the sight of the crude and badly-made braid.

"Is it horrible?" The regent asked with a concerned tone, knowing that he did a glorious mess of it.

"It is perfect." Mycenea assured him as she began stitching the plait to the strip of leather.

The final touch was the protection spell. Mycenea placed the delicate charm in Larsa's hands and took his hands in hers before whispering the incantation. The Solidor closed his eyes tightly and poured his heart into the little ring in his hands, a small tear sliding down his cheek. A strange warmth enveloped their enclosed palms and a strange white glow emanated from the ring before it dissipated.

Larsa looked at the charm, a small, tired smile on his lips. "Thank you." The young regent made to leave the bath but Mycenea blocked his way out.

"Forgive me, Excellency, but I cannot allow you to leave... looking like _that._" The maidservant gestured to the mirror on Larsa's bureau. The prince remembered his rash behaviour and looked in horror at what he had done. He had chopped a whole lock from the left side of his face, leaving a ragged mess of hair barely above his shoulders. It looked nothing short of monstrous.

Mycenea retrieved her scissors from her sewing basket and began the painful task of cutting inch after inch of Larsa's long tresses, almost regretting the loss. When she was done, Larsa's hair was just about the same length it was five years ago—barely grazing his shoulders. The future Emperor stood up, charm in his hands, and exited the bath without another word.

The maidservant carefully tied Larsa's royal robe closed in the traditional manner before stepping back to regard her handiwork. The young lord had indeed grown into his role—tall and proud like his brother Vayne, yet with eyes filled with gentleness and compassion like his father. But there was sadness in those eyes as well.

"Your Excellency." Mycenea bowed to take her leave.

Larsa took hold of her hands and dropped the charm into them before closing her fingers over it. He looked at her once again with those soulful eyes, but did not speak a word... he did not have to.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

The Archadians watched him, their new Emperor, all smiling as he was paraded through the streets of the Capital of Archades. Again, Larsa turned to look if Gabranth was still riding beside his chariot—and he was, tall and proud in his armour. A soft brush of a hand on his made the Solidor turn his head to the woman beside him. _Raelyn Heios Nabradia_—his future wife. Larsa found it suddenly hard to breathe, though he forced himself to smile down at her.

The ride to the Great Cathedral of Archades was the longest and most painful journey Larsa had endured in his short life. Each step to the altar, Nabradian princess on his arm, more excruciating than the one before it. On top step of the altar, they turned, and Larsa found himself once more searching the upturned sea of faces—finding Vaan, more a man now than a boy. Penelo, beautiful in a way he had never seen her. Balthier, handsome and smug as always. Fran, unchanged. And Ashelia, a true Queen in her own right.

Yet the face Larsa was looking for, he could not find.

_He had not come._

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"The Emperor would take offense in your absence." Basch broke Gabranth's thoughts as he leant against the entrance to the Great Cathedral—eyes unseeing the High Septon's blessing of the Emperor's engagement to the princes of Nabradia.

"Perhaps he will find it in his heart to forgive this one indiscretion which I do not regret." The younger twin replied as he turned away from the cathedral and looked at the scene outside. "Even the God of Light, Faram, would understand."

Basch looked at his brother with sympathetic eyes and opted to say nothing, offering his presence instead of words. An elderly maidservant approached the twins before bowing respectfully. "My lords, Captain fon Ronsenburg, Judge Magister Gabranth." She took the latter's hand and dropped a small leather pouch into it before leaving without saying anything more.

The twins looked at each other quizzically. Gabranth opened the small pouch and lifted the leather chord which was curled inside it.

"By the gods, is that—" Basch looked at the dangling charm carefully, recognition flashing in his eyes. "A Goddess Ring from Landis!"

Gabranth frowned at the ring. Yes, he had recognized it as a Goddess Ring—but from a maidservant—an old one at that, it was rather disturbing. Basch could not contain his laughter and he bent over as he slapped his knee. "It seems you cater to the more—_mature _members of the palace, Noah!"

"It does poorly in protecting against heartbreak, it seems."

The younger twin stared hard at the Goddess Ring. It wasn't even made well—the braid of black hair was so poorly done that the hair stuck out of it.

_Black hair._

"What in Ivalice..." Gabranth whispered as he thought back. The maidservant had golden hair like his, almost white with her age.

The black hair. The messy braid. Could it be? Gabranth allowed himself to wonder as he ran his thumb over the Goddess Ring, feeling something hard within the plait. The blonde pulled a few more strands lose and saw a glint of what seemed like—

_White Gold._

With trembling fingers, Gabranth pulled his mother's wedding ring loose from the obsidian strands.

"Noah..." Basch clasped a hand over his brother's arm.

Gabranth turned watery cobalt to equally blue ones—as if asking for permission.

Basch nodded wordlessly.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Noah stormed forward, unfeeling of the bodies which he pushed against almost violently—eyes intensely focused on the altar—on Larsa. _His Larsa._

The quiet murmurs escalated to loud gasps of surprise and exclamations of protest as the Judge Magister fought his way through the watching crowd and straight to where the Emperor of Archadia and Princess of Nabradia were to be engaged.

Larsa wheeled around from where he stood, the sound of the armour clearly ringing in his ears. _He knew this sound_. There was no mistaking it.

"What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself Judge Magister!" The High Septon demanded at the disruption of a most sacred ritual. It was unthinkable!

But Gabranth heard nothing over the blood ringing in his ears; saw no one else but Larsa as the Emperor stood but a few steps above him.

Larsa's heart was racing madly in his chest, but it was not from fear.

No, not this time.

This time he was certain.

The Emperor looked at his betrothed and the princess looked up at him with a strange understanding in her eyes. "From the moment you laid your eyes on him on the chariot... I knew." Raelyn Heios Nabradia whispered as she lowered her eyes to the floor. "I would have loved you, Larsa, but..." She trailed off as she looked at the Judge Magister before them and smiled ruefully.

"You are not mine."

Larsa bowed his head. "Forgive me, Raelyn."

She shook her head, though he could see the unshed tears in her eyes.

Heart caught in his throat, Larsa did the unthinkable.

Unthinking, he ran down the altar steps and threw his arms around Gabranth's neck in abandon.

And when strong arms pulled him tighter, Larsa could not think of anything else.

Not the collective cries of surprise. Not the loud, resounding clatter of Gabranth's helm on the marble. Not the sight of his crown tumbling down the altar steps.

At that moment,

There was no Empire.

No Emperor.

No Judge Magister.

No Duty.

_Only this._

Larsa held on even tighter, as if afraid that Gabranth would disappear from his arms.

_And on that day, Archadia knew, as generations thereafter would learn, of the love between the boy Emperor and his Judge Magister which forever changed the face of Ivalice._

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

It is done!

I am thankful to everyone who went along with Gabranth and Larsa's adventure.

It has been a pleasure reading your reviews.

I am drafting a story on Balthier and Larsa set 5 years post-game, but it is still undergoing revisions in my mind. But I am intent on pursuing that, so we'll see how it goes.

With my utmost gratitude,

Seph


End file.
